I Put a Spell on You
by Cissy Black Malfoy
Summary: Years after graduation, Santana bumps into Shelby Corcoran in NY and sparks fly. Rated M for sex.
1. Is It Thrillin?

**A/N: So, I was bored and this happened. I blame alicia-meade for getting me hooked up in this unlikely ship with her awesome fics, and my just how much I miss Santana in my life. This piece was not proofed by my great beta, so I apologize in advance for the poor grammar and possible word confusion. **

**This fic is a two-part. The other chapter is currently ion the works and it should be posted soon. This first chapter has some wanky bits. Just warning people.**

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**Chapter 1 - Is It Thrillin?**

Shelby pulled on her plum wool coat to try to protect herself from the strong wind as she walked down the street with two of her colleagues. Aiden and Eric had insisted on a little out, with some wine and good music, and she had stalled but not really gotten away with it. Considering she was the only mom on the whole crew of their in-progress musical, she didn't get to participate in 10% of their little gatherings. However, they hung out to drink so much, 10% was still a lot. She didn't feel that young anymore. But then again, neither were Aiden or Eric, and that was the only reason why she had allowed them to drag her to this little club that had just opened in Soho.

After the whole debacle with Quinn, Puck and losing her job, even if her reputation remained suspiciously intact, Shelby had decided to leave Lima. For good. She had made sure Rachel had all of her contacts and begged her kid to let her know as soon as she heard back from NYADA and Tisch, or if she needed anything before then. Rachel had already known at the time about her indiscretion with Puck, but her only reaction, thankfully, had been "This is so gross, and I don't want details. Ever."

Other than Rachel though, she hadn't really talked to anyone about leaving. She had ignored Puck's thirty-seven calls, packed a bag and spent some time at her sister's house in North Dakota, thinking about her life. She had made some contacts with people back in New York and in the Show Choir circuit. She had been clueless about how to move on with her life, but she both didn't want to set a foot in a high-school ever again and she felt like performing was behind her, so she was just throwing some feelers to see what was out there.

It had taken a couple of months before she had gotten the call. Aiden and she had been friends for decades. He had dated her roommate in college, and despite the fact that it had ended up badly and she was good friends with the girl, Aiden had remained in her orbit somehow. He was kind of a dick, but a funny one. Also, he had grown into a generous friend, not that he would ever admit liking other human beings. He had helped her get odd jobs the first time she had moved to New York with Beth, and had let her crash in his brownstone on the Upper West Side because he had been on an inspiration tour around Asia.

But then he got back and he had been investing his time on an original musical that had really great music, but a shaky and sort of green cast and though he was betting on these kids, he wanted her alleged talent for squeezing-impossible-notes-in-the-middles-of-risqué-dance-moves-out-of-people playing on his favor. She could occupy one of his rooms while she looked for a suitable apartment, and he had been offering a nice paycheck, so Shelby hadn't really mulled over it much before signing on and taking her daughter back to the city.

And she hadn't regretted that decision. Aiden's musical had thankfully been a success, and after that, she had managed to find some work as a stage manager on Broadway and well, off too. But mostly, she had been the leading vocal prep on most of Aiden's endeavors, including his Tony winning revivals of _Caroussel_ and _Guys and Dolls_. They were friends and he was generous, so her contracts with him usually included a small percentage over the show's profits, which kept her well off.

She had initially settled into a small apartment in Brooklyn, but she had been aware that finding the perfect real state in Manhattan could take years, and indeed, it had. She had searched by herself and with the tips from friends, but nothing was what she had desired. Her luck only changed when one of the stars she had worked with on a _Sunset Boulevard_ revival moved to LA after her pilot got ordered into a TV Series.

Shelby had been her almost exclusive vocal coach for months, and they became sort of close, to the point that when the woman had scored a Tony, Shelby's name had been dropped at the acceptance speech. Also, Beth was only a toddler back then, and she was so quiet and easily distracted by her coloring books and Lego, that Shelby would always take her into work. The actress was fond of her little one, and they had ended up talking a lot about adoption and raising a child as a single mother on their free time. When she had decided she was going to move back to the West Coast, and stay there for a while, she had offered Shelby her place.

Shelby was in real estate heaven. An incredibly spacious, three bedroom apartment in the Meatpacking district just didn't fall into most people's lap. And they were appallingly expensive. But the owner was a high-powered producer who had entertained a relationship with the actress. Shelby had been nerve-wracked going into lunch with him, desperately clinging to his apartment, but aware that depending on how much he set the rent, she couldn't choose to live there and feed her child.

Turned out he wanted a really high amount for the place, but he also had a 13 year-old aspiring Justin Bieber at home, and with a recent Tony winner recommending her greatly, she had been able to shove off the price tremendously just by committing to weekly private lessons for his boy.

Her apartment was a dream come true and she had been able to enroll Beth on William T Harris School, which was a wonderful little find that kept her from going bankrupt on the tuition of the private schools she had considered at first. Beth had adapted to kindergarten really well and had just started first grade that year. Her little girl was so excited about 'grown up school', her new soccer team and all of her friends. It seemed silly, but seeing Beth so happy made Shelby super giddy and made her ever the more grateful. For the first couple of years after adopting her daughter, Shelby had felt adrift.

She had struggled to reconcile her new role as a mother with her professional persona, and find a new career she felt passionate about, but that was still right for her kid. The first time she had lived in New York had been disappointing and deeply wounding for her. She had slaved herself in various Chorus for years until casting directors started telling her she was too old even to blend into the background. The second time, she had been confused and overwhelmed, and when she hadn't been home with a crying baby, she just wanted to go home to her crying baby. It felt amazing that this third time, everything had clicked. She had met all the right people, gotten all the right jobs, made a proper living and managed a balanced routine for a change. She was effectively on cloud nine.

It had been a while since she had worked with Aiden too. He had directed an astonishingly good and strikingly successful motion picture adaption of _Starlight Express_, before reaping his renewed street cred with another risky original musical. Eric was the genius behind the idea of taking the dramatic play _Dark of the Moon_ and turning into a musical and their lyricist. She had raised an eyebrow once Aiden had emailed her this new adventure of his, but once she got to meet Eric, look at the material and hear the music, she had been hooked. It was kind of dark and the music was haunting, and they were definitively looking at a very adult public, which made their financial prospects a bit worrisome, but she was proud to be involved in this workshop and she hoped they managed to see it through to Broadway.

Eric put a hand on her back once they reached the discreet entrance of the club, and gently led her inside. Aiden had walked in first, and he was already by the bar talking to someone; by the time they reached him, they were all guided to a spacious booth on a corner.

Shelby took a minute to scrutinize the place while she shed her coat, gloves and pashmina. It was cozy and pleasant. The couches were of plush leather, the wood that comprised the tables and adorned the whole place seemed very rich, and the decoration in reddish-dark tones managed to not look cheap. Nobody was smoking inside, people sipped their drinks and talked quietly and a very impressive jazz band kicked a cool version of _Sing, Sing, Sing_.

Aiden ordered his usual Scotch and Eric accompanied him, but she insisted on playing it safe and getting a cool glass of Chardonnay and they shared some appetizers to make up for the fact that they had all worked past dinner and were starving.

The song had just ended and there was a bit of silence before the band started playing the first notes of _I Put a Spell on You_. She had to lean over to try and hear what Aiden was saying to her, something about how the band was all so young and she nodded, agreeing.

She turned around just as the first words were sung, and froze. There, on the small stage, stood none other than Santana Lopez. She looked different from the last time Shelby had been with her. Not in appearance; other than the fact her hair was now shoulder length and a bit lighter, she looked about the same. But the way she carried herself was completely transformed.

Gone was the defensive, self-conscious girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. This woman in front of her was comfortable, even free. Her sultriness was real, and her dark eyes invited you in, and not to be murdered either. She knew she had barely done her job for this girl, and she had bailed so fast after her Glee Club lost Sectionals that she had no right, but she felt sort of proud. It gave her a warm feeling inside, this tender contentment she usually only felt for Beth and Rachel spreading to her core, to see this improved Santana. She couldn't help the affectionate smile that crept on her face.

Santana finished the song and seemed satisfied with the deserved attention she got. She quickly scanned the club and then finally, met her eyes. Shelby wasn't sure if the girl was happy to see her at all, but there was a glint in her former pupil's eyes that made it evident she felt something. Shelby felt her stomach twist a bit and took a sip of her wine, sure that facing someone she had coached for three months six years ago shouldn't make her so uneasy.

Shelby would be lying if she ever said that she didn't need people to like her, but her apprehension for the fact that this girl may very well resent her for not coming through to her and then skipping town without a glance back was a bit overblown. She deserved anger for being so flighty back in the day, but she was also deeply sorry for not being a better educator those few months she stayed in McKinley. That was just not her usual self. She had always been fiercely dedicated to whomever she was coaching, and nothing made her more bashful than doing a piss poor job and letting people down.

She observed Santana whisper something to her band mates and then turn around, and start swaying her hips as another Nina Simone song was initiated.

_Do I move you, is it thrillin_

_Do I groove you, are you willin'_

Shelby felt, rather than heard the velvety words reach her and caress her, Santana staring her down the whole time in a way that wasn't exactly threatening. It was actually kind of flirty, and Shelby allowed herself to relax and dive into the song. Some of the other patrons had turned to find out who Santana was looking at, but Shelby only realized it once the song was over and their eye contact was broken, and, well, she couldn't keep herself from flushing.

Aiden had pulled her closer and whispered something dirty on her ear, but she had pushed him away half-way through it and focused on the food that had been put right in front of them while Santana went into a rendition of Melody Gardot's _Quiet Fire_ that Shelby was determined to ignore, despite the burning feeling on the back of her head.

Eric, who was much more circumspect than Aiden, only asked if she knew the girl and faced with Shelby's quiet and curt reply, simply added "Well, she's good."

"And beautiful," Aiden purred in a way that made her a little nauseated. She was tempted to tell Aiden that Santana was a lesbian, but knew she had no right and that the girl probably didn't need Shelby of all people protecting her from gross older men.

She just rolled her eyes and gave her attention back to Eric, with whom she discussed some particulars of the arrangements in a couple of their songs while Santana kept seemingly all the rest of place wrapped around her finger for another half of dozen of songs. Shelby didn't mean to be rude to Eric, but she almost instantaneously zoned out their chat to check the stage and see if Santana was already leaving, which she was, but two seconds later she was perching over their booth.

"Still looking hot, Miss C." Shelby couldn't help but to chuckle and bask on it. Nobody had called her Miss C in a long time, and she missed it.

"Hi, Santana." She complimented lightly, and gestured for the girl to take a seat. Eric excused himself and moved to the other side of the couch, despite both of their protests and Santana introduced herself to the men almost shyly before settling next to her.

Santana couldn't help but to feel both joyful and anxious to have run into Shelby Corcoran of all people, and that in itself was weird. She actually wanted to at least write to Shelby for a while now, but that was a thorny task. She hadn't been left with any of Shelby's contacts when the women had fled Lima, and well, Shelby had been a dinosaur back then and didn't 'do' Facebook. She hadn't been able to figure out how to word to Rachel man-hands Berry that she wanted to reach out to her mother, especially because despite the fact that she had gotten used to Rachel's high-level of annoyance to the point of sort of liking the girl, Rachel was still nosy as hell.

Plus, even if she had figured hot to by-pass Rachel, she wasn't sure she'd been able to start a proper e-mail to Shelby. She felt awkward for even wanting to do it. Honestly, Santana didn't do words well. Unless they were mean words. She was practically the John Keats of insults.

"How have you been, San?" Shelby asked tenderly, and Santana had a very strong rule about not allowing anybody other than Brittany to use pet names for her, but for whatever reason she felt okay with Shelby's move.

"I'm great." Santana answered confidently, because yeah, she was still not rich and definitively not famous right now, so there was a lot of moving up still to be done, but she incidentally liked her current life. She wasn't pretending to be anything she wasn't, she didn't have eyes on the back of her head either fearing or hoping she would break and she had very concrete goals and pretty decent plans to achieve her dreams for a change. "How about you and your boo boo bear?"

Shelby rolled her eyes good naturedly, but Santana knew that her smile had more to do with thoughts of her daughter than with her jab. She still shuddered remembering how Shelby's mama bear side had come out that one day they had Trouble Tones practice at her apartment on a Saturday, and Shelby heard her referring to Beth as the "lizard baby". Now Santana wasn't afraid of many people; she was after all a very scary bitch herself. However, angry Shelby Corcoran was the hurricane Katrina of temper storms, and Santana had felt like all of her coolness was a skinny-assed umbrella.

In the end though, Santana had apologized profusely, explained her sometimes improper sense of humor and she had even been allowed to make it up for it by watching Beth after everyone left while Shelby tidied up her place, which had given her the opportunity to see Shelby baby-talking. She had never let Shelby live that down. She had taken just about every opportunity to tease the older woman, though never in public. Shelby seemed to be aware that she had intimidated her, a lot, when she had lost her head, so she had been gracious about it.

"I'm well, and she's doing amazing, thanks for asking."

"She must be in what, first grade, now?" Shelby seemed surprised at her interest at first, and the scrutiny seemed to make her usual prowess melt into shyness. Santana internally chided herself for being too nosy. "You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay…" Shelby shook her head emphatically, but the fact that she also took a very generous sip of her wine told Santana otherwise.

"It's okay to want to protect your privacy and your baby's. I didn't mean to pry."

"San, it's fine." Shelby tried to sooth the younger girl from freaking out about something that was kind of a non-issue, and put a comforting hand on her bare arm. Shelby just wasn't used to letting people get this close to her intimacy, and for a moment she was sitting with a grown woman that was making a not so subtle move on her, and dissociated her from the Santana that was once one of her pupils, and that had already made the trip to the other side of her wall.

"Yes, Beth is in first grade and she's doing really well. She is the most advanced in her class and we even have to do some challenging tasks at home so she won't get bored with her coursework. She's really athletic. She has been swimming since we moved back, and she has a bunch of medals. She also has kind of an aggressive energy, so she's in Karate now, and we're a looking into either Tennis or Fencing for her to try next."

Shelby didn't even realize she let go of herself talking about her daughter; that her eyes were shinning and her hands were moving about. And Santana didn't know that her eyes were gleaming as well, Shelby's passion pulling her in. She had never been into this much expressiveness and openness before. But she had changed and Shelby exuding this much love, this confidently, suddenly made the older woman all the more attractive.

"I would have guessed she had three hour long singing lessons every day," Santana joked, and Shelby chuckled, self-conscious. Santana sat up straighter, alarmed, because she didn't know if she had put her foot in her mouth. Music was Shelby's thing, Quinn's and Puck's were sports. They might have been a part of Glee, but their strongest suit was being jocks.

"She likes music; I mean, how could she not?" Shelby explained quietly. "And she sings. But she has so many interests. And I want her to have it all. I don't want to possibly keep her from finding something that will make her happy."

"Well, you're a great mom." Santana commented softly, and she was glad to genuinely mean it. Puck and Quinn had been her friends, and despite everything, including the fact that she hadn't spoken to either in a while, it was satisfying to know that their kid was with a mother that seemed authentically caring and thoughtful. "And what are you doing now? Still coaching show choir?"

Shelby snorted and quickly shook her head. "I finally moved past that. I should have after I quit Vocal Adrenaline anyways, but I let Al Motta's dollar bills seduce me. I'm actually working on Broadway, mostly. Nothing fancy, I just land a hand to the director and the music team, so they can focus on other things. Like, warming up the cast while they teach the lead a new song or working on songs with specific actors while the rest of the company is being run through something else. I just help people sing the books to the level these guys want them to, and I try to make sure they are ready to project it to the last guy sitting on the last row, with the same power, eight times a week."

"So… an easy job," Santana mocked her lightly; it seemed like a lot of heavy lifting.

Of course Shelby didn't see it that way. When she was at work, she could hardly ever catch a break, but as soon as she stepped outside, everything was left behind. She let her directors, musicians and writers toss around at night with creative decisions, and the producers pan out sixteen hours chasing every technical mishap. It was uplifting.

"It is an easy job, actually. I'm good at it, and I really love every minute of it, so…"

"Well, I'm glad. But I'm also glad you didn't move on towards this right away, and you did get sucked into coaching the Trouble Tones. Because you changed my life."

Santana saw shock and embarrassment cross Shelby's face and was confused. The woman was just playing with her watch and staring at her wine, as if she didn't know how to even respond, which was weird because she had never known Shelby to be timid or modest. Santana, not being exactly restrained herself, reached out to the Shelby's chin and forced the older woman to look up at her.

"You don't have to say that, Santana." Shelby murmured so inaudibly, that with the band still playing in the background, she had to read her lips to understand. Additionally, Shelby's eyes seemed suspiciously moist, which made her scared. Usually she knew exactly what she had said that could have hurt a person, but now she was confused and she hoped her raised eyebrows were conveying as much. "We lost. And then I left. I didn't really do anything for you."

Santana looked at her as if she couldn't possibly be serious. Losing Sectionals with the Trouble Tones was definitively not ideal, but one of their judges was a literal clown! She of course had a grudge, she wouldn't be Santana Lopez if she didn't, but none of it was aimed at Shelby. Mr. Schuester might have been the one blabbing about the power of the journey, but it had been Shelby who had made hers significant in any way.

"So, yeah, no shining trophy for our little Sapphic band of misfits. It doesn't matter now. You were the only person in that godforsaken school other than Brittany to ever tell me that I was indeed very awesome, but that I could do so much better."

"What about Will?"

Santana just snorted and rolled her eyes at that. "Mr. Schue cared and meant well. But he was more the play it by ear type of coach and the inspirational pep talk embellished by moved tears type of counselor. He tried to help, of course, but I still fail to see how disco week and a gross polyester suit could have changed my future. Sue Sylvester and Britt of all people were the ones to have a concrete idea to push me out the door.

"You didn't just give me a chance to be in the spotlights, you showed me my weakness and encouraged me to work hard and believe that I was just as musically talented as the rest of the Diva pack. It took a while to sink in, you know? But it did. I was almost through my first year at University of Hickville - Kentucky when I decided I had had enough of being stuck. There was this voice in the back of my head telling me fear of failure was a self-fulfilling prophecy, and it sounded suspiciously nasal and bossy. So I dug an arrangement a certain someone had scraped specially for me of 'Remain Nameless' from a musty corner of my iPad, I perfected it and I used it as my audition piece for the Eastman School of Music. And in the end, I did come to New York and found my dreams, and I did it the right way."

"Well, I'm impressed." And incredibly flattered. She just couldn't help this joy that filled her inside, seeing someone she cared about living the best moment of her life. Seeing Santana blossom and knowing she had hanged on to her minimal help. The time she had spent in McKinley had been so turbulent for everyone involved, but Santana had received the harsher blunts. The girl had been outed in the whole county, on the Television and Shelby remembered sitting at her living room, baffled and pissed, totally clueless about how to help a pupil she had known for only three months.

She hated pity, and she had guessed that Santana wasn't the type of person to take sympathy lightly either. She had also witnessed the monumentally condescending parade of support she had been forced to endure, and how much the girl was writhing and suffocating under it. She wasn't sure who had decided that forcing Santana to sit down and listen to everybody else express their feelings about her struggles with her sexuality, but they were idiots.

Shelby had considered the lyrics fitting. She would probably have used it as a solo performance if they had made it to Regionals, but she was glad it had served to even better purposes. Eastman was an excellent school; she had only sent two previous students there and they were the best of the best.

"I met these guys there. After graduation they were going to New Orleans for a while and I thought, why not? Best decision of my life."

Santana had already started to detach from her pursue of fame and focus on her craft during college; Eastman was not for fame whores after all. People were deadly serious about music, and she had started to act more like a pro and an artist. But the south had been a different environment completely; she had met people that taught her that it wasn't just about pouring stuff out through music, it was also about transcending. She missed the place terribly. She must have had that longing glaze on her eyes, because Shelby commented curiously "But you're back here."

"Yeah. I like the scene down there better. It's more raw and authentic, and I felt more inspired. We all did. But we were composing a lot, we were interested in doing mostly our own stuff, and a producer offered us a contract to record some stuff."

"Santana!" Shelby jumped up and shouted, her eyes widening in a cartoonish kind of way. Shelby the cartoon was very, very cute. Nobody had mustered this much enthusiasm for her success besides her family. She was sure Britt would have, but since the girl had moved to LA to dance they had been having an even harder time finding each other.

She shrugged, not because it wasn't a big freaking deal. As far as she was concerned, it was a massive deal. But it was also bound to happen. She was talented and she was pretty; she was also the very face of tenacity. All she had needed was to figure out how to apply her natural charisma and strength well.

"I'm not going to become Britney Spears or play in stadiums, but that's not my thing anymore anyways. It'll be nice to have our music out there, and the clubs in New York are great. Also, I may or may not be applying to the Master Program in Jazz Studies at NYU this year, so that's a plus."

Shelby could barely believe this Santana was the same one that was so overwhelmed by feeling different and not wanting to be considered so. This Santana was very much adult and had her head in all the right places. Her career, her education; herself. It elated her to witness this transformation.

And it also sort of delighted her that San was looking up her alma mater. Shelby had attended Tisch when she was younger, and then gone back to study Vocal Pedagogy during her second stopover in the city. It wasn't easy to try Graduate School in between random gigs and being a full-time mom to a newborn, but she always enjoyed studying. Getting her MA had been the only truly fulfilling she had accomplished in New York back then.

"Well, if you want my opinion, you should do it. Steinhardt is a pretty cool place and you could take yourself to the next level. You could become a Diana Krall sort of artist."

"Or I could, you know, become a Santana Lopez sort of artist," Santana sassed it up, making Shelby crack up.

"Even better."

After that, the conversation became really light and easy. Shelby was interested in Santana's music, and their passion for the subject carried them on. The three or four glasses of wine they ingested with little food didn't hurt either, and it certainly played a part in upping the flirting. Shelby certainly wasn't touchy-feely, but her hand was resting cozily against Santana's elbow without her discernment. Santana, on the other hand, was easily much more overt and had possessed every intention to park her own hand against the older woman's knee. The way her thumb kept brushing the inside of Shelby's tight was pretty purposeful as well, but she hadn't heard a protest so far.

At some point, Santana had even been nice enough to acknowledge Aiden and Eric. Aiden had thrown a little charm her way, in her opinion, being clearly blind or stupid, and when she had gotten up to have a word with the band and then order some more drinks, he had not so inconspicuously followed her to the bar. Santana had matured considerably; she liked to think that even more than it should be expected of her considering that a substantial part of her youth had been drained by the double life she had led. However, patience and graciousness were not qualities she had acquired yet.

"Look, hot stuff, I'm sure you're used to being the brightest colored unicorn in the forest, and if Shelby is keen on you, there must be some hidden redeeming quality to your persona, but I'm really only interested in penises that come off. Comprende?"

The guy had needed a few minutes to save face, but once he had returned to the table, he had started behaving himself. They all talked about their current musical and various Broadway gossip, and at some point Santana had started egging Shelby on to hop on stage with her.

Shelby wasn't sure if it was the four too many glasses of white wine weighing on her brain, Eric and Aiden practically forcing her to get on her feet or that smile Santana was sporting just for her benefit, but suddenly she was sitting on a stool on stage, agreeing to sing _Baby It's Cold Outside_ with San. She hadn't really performed for an audience in over five years, she hadn't warmed up in any way and she wasn't sure she remembered the lyrics to the song or if the key Santana had asked for would even play in her favor. She was in no shape to sing whatsoever, but at some point she had crossed the line into too inebriated to care.

The band started playing and Santana made a head sign for her to go first, and she had no idea how, but she took it away. She had no clue if she was getting the words right, and she better not be finding out one way or the other via YouTube, but Santana and she were harmonizing perfectly.

Well, they were doing much more than that. Shelby felt almost like they were in their own little world, not in a bar with probably fifty strangers. Santana's dark eyes would only stray away from hers to rack along her body during the most suggestive parts of the song. Or in that brief stunt when she was standing behind her stroking her fingertips from her lower back to, well… lower.

Shelby swore to God she was going to stop drinking if neither Aiden nor Eric brought this up, ever. And if she managed to leave the club with her underwear reasonably dry. When the song ended, she was basically dazed, and she had barely grasped that both Santana and her sax player thanked everybody, including Shelby, and bid farewell before she was staring at Santana's back disappearing between the tables. It took her another couple seconds while she processed through the confusion, but she finally jumped off and ran after San.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ was all Santana could think while she rushed into the little room her band had been allowed to use as a dressing room and flicked the lights on. She had no idea how she could have been so hasty to play this game with Shelby _effing_ Corcoran. The only women she ever hit on were certifiably into her, and even so, they were a bunch of what's-her-faces she was bound to never see again. After she had forced herself to let go of Britt, she had never risked being with someone to whom she was exposed.

Shelby had always seen her. She had spent five years being mutely thankful to her for planting this wonderful little seed inside of her. To the point that, and she wouldn't confess it to a living soul, she had kind of reverenced the woman. All of these years that she hadn't summoned the courage to look for Shelby, she had been wishing she would one day bump into her, so the woman could see what she had finally become and Santana could at least explain how she had contributed and say thank you. It was idiotic and obsessive to the point of being super creepy. Santana was not into being a wimp, and if she could, she'd go Lima Heights all over that piece of herself. And it didn't even matter anymore, because she had just taken pathetic to a new level.

She knew that if she had any decency, she would go back outside and apologize to Shelby for her beyond distasteful behavior. But her shame and the fear of further humiliation she also wouldn't care to admit stopped her. She was so pissed at herself that she hadn't noticed Shelby leaning against the doorframe and observing her angrily putting on her coat and scarf.

Shelby knew she should have announced her presence instead of lurking like a macabre apparition, but Santana seemed kind of upset and she had been waiting for the younger woman to calm down a little. Instead, it seemed like she had only worked herself up, and the only thing that brought her out of whatever was going through her mind was indeed turning around and seeing Shelby there. She saw Santana swallow tensely and bend to pull her messenger bag from under a bunch of others, a perfect opportunity to not be facing her when she mumbled "I'm really so sorry, Shelby."

"Sorry for what?"

"I know you're not gay."

Shelby barely managed to comprehend what Santana had muttered through her obviously clenched teeth, and San kept her back firmly turned to the older woman until the silence was too much for her. Shelby had crossed her arms and was raising that very frightening eyebrow at her; she seemed irked.

"San, I would never be offended by your flirting. Don't you know me better than that?"

Santana lowered her head and brushed her face, even more mortified, because Shelby had always been nothing but laid-back about all the gay stuff, even the occasional offhand comment either Britt or she would throw at her to see if it made her squirm back in their Trouble Tones days.

But at the same time, she felt that allowing her to build something up like that just to be politically correct was incredibly condescending. She would probably not let a man do the same and to be treated with kids' gloves was really annoying. Didn't Shelby know her better? She shot the older woman a dirty glare, adjusted her bag over her shoulder and tried to sidestep Shelby and leave, but she moved and blocked her exit.

"Look, Shelby, I flirt. I'm a starving musician, and things are easier with a little wink, wink. A lot easier. I'm hot."

Shelby was certainly amused at Santana's never ending confidence, but she was sure that was not the girl's point. "But?"

Santana sighed and shook her leg angrily. At this point, she was really starting to regret having stumbled upon Shelby. "But you're not some gross producer or club owner. You are… you," Santana gestured wildly in Shelby's direction and huffed, clearly exasperated, and the fact that Shelby only smiled down at her certainly didn't put her at ease.

"You know, I always thought Rochester was a pretty great school, but I'll have to rethink that if you're this eloquent."

Ok, now, Santana was officially fuming. She was definitively turning a shade of red and Shelby thought she might start expelling fire through her ears any minute. That glare she was receiving was surely the Lima Heights Adjacent one and she feared that she might be screamed at in Spanish soon. She couldn't help, not withstanding, that she was simply too amused.

"You didn't change that much, you know? You still go to the anger place."

Santana scoffed loudly and crossed her arms, but she seemed self-conscious when she commented "This is not Snixx coming out to play."

"Maybe not, but instead of making yourself vulnerable and asking me if what I felt was as real as what you felt, you got pissed at yourself and I'm gonna guess at least a little bit at me, for playing along, and you ran away."

Shelby knew that behind Santana's constant rage there had always been an intense dread. The girl just didn't know how to cope with rejection. And Shelby had done some unadvised things in her life, but she wouldn't have lead Santana on. She didn't consider herself bi, and the last time she had been with a woman had been almost fifteen years before, but she wasn't exactly rigid in regards to her sexuality. She had also never felt pressed to over think it or talk about it. She knew she would probably drop dead from the anxiety if she had taken it to a problematic place, so she had merely committed to not complicate what were supposed to be good feelings.

Santana was just shocked. She didn't know if Christmas had come early and she should just bless Santa Claus and not question stuff, or if maybe she should approach this as something that could disintegrate very quickly if she wasn't super careful. She had no doubt that something very real had passed between them; it was almost an electric current. But was Shelby solid enough to handle how much she wanted her, or would Santana scare her?

"I'm sorry," she whispered tentatively. "So, what does that mean exactly?"

"I think it means I'm into you. Urgh, I'm too old to be saying that; it sounded dirty."

Now Shelby was the one that couldn't look up, and she was actively trying to hide her blushing face behind her hand. She also had a look of utter disgust on her face. It was funny. Santana was still a bit hesitant to make a move, but she knew she had to. It was now or never.

"Dirty can be good, Miss C."

Santana shifted closer to her and Shelby felt her palm against her waist, brushing it smoothly until they were standing shoulder to shoulder and the hand was resting over her hipbone. That was not contributing to her deal with God earlier in like, anyway.

"It's Shelby," she finally hissed, because the last thing she wanted to think about in that moment was the fact that Santana had once been her student.

Santana smirked, and not only because it was nice to mess with Shelby. She hadn't run screaming yet, and Santana could feel the familiar heat building on her stomach. It felt nice being this close to her, engulfed in her perfume, in her warmth.

They were almost the same height, but Santana raised herself on her tip toes so she could lean into Shelby. She let her lips faintly graze Shelby's cheek; so soft, it was heavenly. "Old can be hot too, Shelby," she whispered directly into the older woman's ear.

Shelby's only response was to swat her ass, which only broadened Santana's smirk. She stared up into the hazel orbs and blinked in a very devious way. "Now that is not my thing. I'm more of a top type person, if you know what I mean."

Shelby scoffed loudly, and turned a brighter shade of red, but the glint in her eyes was definitively lustful when she replied with a husky "I don't think so."

Shelby really wasn't that adamant to the _alpha dog_ in bed; it went against her policy of letting good things happen. Hell if she would miss on pleasure because she needed to be in control; it sufficed to have it in every other aspect of the relationship. But she had been curious about what Santana would do and she surely wasn't disappointed when the Latina grabbed her mouth and initiated a fiery kiss that barely allowed her to breathe.

Santana pressed her whole body against Shelby, who was helpless trapped against the door, and pushed her tongue into her mouth. Despite all the wine they had drunk, Shelby still tasted kind of sweet. This was one of those situations in which the more she got out of woman, the more she desired her. Seriously, if she didn't control herself, she would end up finger banging Shelby in a nasty bathroom stall or something. So, she pulled away. "Your place?"

Shelby eyes were still glazed with arousal and it took her a moment to contemplate her question.

"No. Beth and Rachel are there."

"Berry?"

"Do I have another daughter named Rachel? Yes, she kind of lives with me right now."

Santana found the information a bit disturbing. She really didn't want to remember she was sexing the mother of one of her high-school friends up. "Why?"

Shelby just shrugged and ran her hands through Santana's sides. She too really didn't want to think of Rachel right at that minute. She adored Rachel, but her kids were not the best topic of conversation in the compromising position in which she found herself.

"Er, starving artist. Ring a bell? I make a pretty good living, so I have space, and she has a clean room, on a nice neighborhood, free of rent or bills, all she has to do is watch her sister once in a while."

Santana grunted, because nobody ever offered her free board in New York City in exchange of anything even marginally decent, and life had to continue to be unfair and privilege Berry all the way, non? No matter; she hoped Rachel was well and all, but she had more pressing business in her mind, so she just told Shelby to grab her things and meet her outside.

By the time Shelby appeared on the side walk, wrapped in a very expensive looking coat, Santana had already managed to grab them a cab. She held the door open for Shelby to slide inside and then promptly directed the driver to the _W Hotel_. Shelby seemed stunned and Santana was aware that it was going to be a very expensive night, but she just could not do cheap motels. She couldn't take Shelby to her place either. Her flat wasn't in a terrible neighborhood, it was actually one of the best ones in Brooklyn, but she shared it with her sax and bass players. They were guys and they were messy.

"Hell if I'll take a fancy old lady such as yourself to my little hell on earth. You wouldn't be able to get the stench of three days-old burritos and men's socks out of your Givenchy bag for months."

She took the opportunity to send a text to her roommates and tell them not to worry about her, and Shelby did the same and warned Rachel she wouldn't make it home tonight. While Santana would probably get teased, Shelby knew she would get a swirl of questions the next day. Rachel had lived with her parents who had been married for over two decades her whole life, and always pounced on her when she spent a night out.

Getting a room hadn't been easy either. Santana, who had more dates in hotels than she could count, was fully used to it, but Shelby had become furious at the receptionist's prying glare. Then, of course, they had gotten into a silly discussion about who would pay for the room that lasted the better of three minutes before they did the obvious and split the bill.

Santana had caressed the internal part of Shelby's wrist the whole elevator ride, hoping the woman wasn't nervous and trying to hide that she, unexpectedly, was. The room was cozy and nice. Shelby didn't find it super inviting, but then, she hated hotel rooms. She sat on the bed to unbutton her jacket, and at least it was a very comfortable bed. She saw Santana lean against a desk, seeming way too stressed for someone who had been calling most of the shots.

"San?"

"There is still time for you back down, you know?"

Shelby chuckled because despite the fact that there was indeed always time for one of them to say no, it would have been better if that had occurred before they paid for that suite. Also, the thoughtfulness was nice. She was just afraid that it wasn't about that at all.

She extended her hand and Santana took it, letting Shelby pull her closer and rub her back softly. She pressed a kiss into the girl's navel, over her blouse, and cherished the feeling of Santana's fingers stroking her hair gently.

"I'm okay. Are you okay?" Santana frowned down at her, and bit her lip, obviously not knowing where to even start answering that. She was in paradise, but she was also sort of frightened. "I don't want to hurt you either, San."

But those words were all she needed to hear to wind down. A part of her just wanted to bounce at the fact that she had just managed to drag this amazing woman to a hotel room, and not only she sort of liked her as human being in the grand scheme of things, but Shelby cared too. Instead, she put both of her knees on the bed and sat on Shelby's lap; the hand that was still on her hair grabbed it, not forcibly enough to hurt her, and tilted Shelby's head back, eliciting a moan. Santana's moist lips closed around the creamy skin of her neck.


	2. Can You See My Thick Skin Wearing Thin?

**A/N: So, I know I said this would be a two-part and is plenty finished by the end of this chapter, but I have some ideas that might lead to more stuff. I'm just wondering if it's worth pursuing anything or not. Do you guys think the story should go on?**

**I would like to thank anyone who has favorited or put the story on alert. It means a lot to me to find out that there are some people out there who like this couple too. If at least a third installment interests you guys, drop a line when you can. Either way, thanks so, so much for reading. **

**Also, I've never written Santana. And I'm really wondering if she's coming out well here. I know characterization is not Glee's forte, but I try to keep character's voice close to canon and I don't want to miss the mark too much. **

**You may have noticed that I bumped the rating. The wankiness gets much more explicit at the end of this, so if you don't like lesbian smut, it is better to avoid it. **

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Can You See My Thick Skin Wearing Thin**

If somebody had told Santana that she would become the type of person to religiously get up early without even needing an alarm a couple of years ago, she would have laughed at their faces. Some of it was due to the fact that she had used her great knowledge of Spanish to work as a Bilingual Personal Assistant for a big shot a while back, and the man was a workaholic and demanded her ass to be sitting at her table inhumanly early. But five years of sneaking out before her night companion had even a chance to stir had probably wired her body too.

She immediately got up and went about her morning routine quickly. Another thing she had learned from both being a musician and multiple one-night stands was to always carry a spare tooth-brush and some miniature facial products so she didn't have to be disgusting the next day if she ever slept away from home – which she did, often. Santana was all about presentation. She also took a fast shower and dressed up, but she couldn't bring herself to leave.

She peeped inside of the room through the door frame while she combed her hair into a ponytail, and sighed. That was what she got for going after her former coach, who she respected and liked. It's not that she regretted being with Shelby, because their night had been wonderful. Shelby was wonderful. So present, so intense. It was different from everything else she had experienced, even with Brittany. Shelby was just so there, 100% there, that it had been impossible to escape. Not that she wanted to, but it was her usual MO, so closing her eyes and letting the physical sensations overflow her was as easy as breathing. Shelby had made her feel things. And it was exactly that which gave her jitters.

She didn't want this to be Brittany all over again. She wasn't sure she could handle somebody else hanging onto her affection and her presence, only for her to let them down. Breaking up with Brittany had been the toughest thing she had ever needed to do. They had even tried again, once Santana didn't have that excruciating cheerleading schedule anymore because she changed schools and Brittany had graduated. But Britt went to California and Santana became busier than she thought she would in Rochester; they didn't even visit anymore. Admitting her relationship with the person she had loved the most in life was unhealthy and unfair to the both of them was an incredibly saddening experience she wasn't keen on repeating.

She left the bathroom and walked over to the bed. Shelby was mostly covered by the blankets, except for the top of her chest, so Santana could get a peek of her breasts moving subtly as she inhaled and exhaled. Santana had been with a number of attractive women, of course; she was super fit herself. But Shelby was different. Not Brittany different; a new type of different. That smile of hers did some crazy crap to Santana's head. It made Santana want to just nuzzle into her and let her walls come down; and Santana's shtick was surely not cuddling and emotions!

She tried to keep in mind that Shelby wasn't Brittany. She was older and she wasn't innocent and dependent like Britt had been. They were both adults and they had a lot going on in their respective lives, and they probably couldn't become clingy even if they wanted to. So, maybe she could do this. She could allow herself to date this person and like her, but they wouldn't fall in love and start picturing forever, and screw everything up.

She kept telling herself she could do this. She could try to have a nice human connection for once, and she wouldn't lose sight of her limits and get hurt; or hurt Shelby. She had to convince herself she was going to control this and it would be fine, because sitting there, towering over Shelby's sleeping form, her face so serene but sort of blissful, it was rather difficult not to want to see her again.

Santana placed a sultry kiss over Shelby's exposed shoulder, and then traced down, caressing the warm skin with her lips until Shelby shivered and then groaned. She wasn't sure if it was a salacious groan, but she would take it.

"Wakey, wakey, sleepy head."

Shelby sighed and pressed her forearm against her eyes. Definitively a cranky morning person, Santana assessed with a chuckle. She could relate. She usually didn't feel like being nice to anybody before at least two cups of black coffee; she was making an exception because she really needed to go, and she wasn't about to wake up a sexy lady with rudeness.

"What time is it?" Shelby muttered praying the light would go away. Her head was killing her. She was never more grateful for the fact that both Aiden and Eric had been out with her the previous day, and that they had bumped the starting hour of the workshop rehearsals.

"It's seven thirty."

"What?" Shelby forgot the pain and the tiredness, and sat up right away, searching for her phone. Why hadn't it gone up? Had she muted it? She managed to fish it out of her bag and looked at it. Yep, definitively muted. She had missed her alarm and a text message from Rachel saying she had gotten Beth up and in the shower. She let her body fall back into the pillows and closed her eyes, cursing inwardly.

She was going to hear about it. She had no idea how a person could change so much, but Rachel had gone from being an incredibly annoying morning person to someone who would throw a tantrum if you awoke her even one minute before nine. Shelby supposed it was the Broadway effect. They were all night people. She just couldn't afford to be, because she had a seven year-old to raise. Regardless, she knew she was getting an earful once she arrived home.

She heard Santana clear her throat and glanced up at her; she was dressed to go. "Sorry, day job," she explained, and Shelby must have frowned deeper because she completed "The studio?"

"You're not inviting me to hear your stuff?"

Shelby teased her, turning on her stomach and stretching some of her muscles. She really needed to take a shower and get going to, but the sluggishness was holding her back.

Santana was surprised Shelby wanted to come over to the studio. She was sure it wouldn't be a problem, after all Shelby was a professional on the business too and certainly wouldn't get in the way. Plus, she was a master vocal coach of the stars now. It wouldn't be too bad to get her input.

"Well, I just… You can come whenever you want, of course. I'd like that."

"Great. Not today though, I have to get my baby to school."

Santana just nodded, absentmindedly, but secretly pleased that she would get to check with her producer first. She ran her nails gently through Shelby naked back. "So, in which part of your body should I write down my number?"

Shelby chuckled loudly, ignoring the sensation between her legs from Santana's lascivious tone. They did not have time for a quickie. Santana should not ever be getting late at her first real chance in the industry and she had to get home. Rachel probably had it under control, but even if she was the older sister, it wasn't her responsibility. Shelby was the mom and she liked to be there for her kid every morning, no matter what.

She was also sure twenty years ago she would have let Santana write wherever she wanted. Hell, she could have tattooed her number on her ass and she wouldn't have minded. However, now she was a mother and she was in her forties, so she just offered her phone to Santana instead. Santana seemed not only to have put her number down, but to have also called herself. Shelby couldn't help but to smile at what a control freak that girl was.

Santana handed the phone back and gave her a few swift pecks, before screaming "Later" and basically flying through the door.

In the end, Santana had been the one to call. But only because she had a recording session on the Saturday and it was going to be a more laid-back event; they were still trying to find the right sound for these lyrics and they would be jamming and trying different things. She hadn't even known if Shelby could make it on a weekend, in such short notice, but it had turned out that Beth had a pay date, which Shelby easily turned into a sleepover, so everything had worked out perfectly.

She had been at the studio with Levi, her sax player, and Austin, her bass player, working up some arrangements, before the rest of the crew arrived and they went into the actual recording studio. She needed to call Shelby and confirm that the woman would meet her there, because she had forgotten to text her the address earlier.

Levi smirked and teased her when she had excused herself from the room, making her even more anxious. The guys always gave her some playful grieve about her dealings. But if Shelby did show up, she would be the first woman Santana had ever introduced to this sort of family that she had. She hadn't realized that when she had invited Shelby. She didn't regret it, and she certainly still wanted the woman around, but it made her nervous.

She dialed her phone and waited a couple of rings until she heard a very immature voice answer with a friendly "Hello". Crap.

"Oh, hi sweetie. Is this Beth?" She asked uneasily; she had no idea if Shelby wanted her to have even the most minimal contact with her kid. And well, they had only slept together once and not really gone on a real date yet, so it wasn't like Santana would be upset if she didn't.

"Yes, this is Beth." The girl responded with annoyance and a sigh. Santana had to hold a laugh – definitively Quinn and Puck's daughter.

"Could I speak to your mommy?"

"Who is this?" And without a doubt Rachel Berry's sister; that bossy tone was Rachel all the way. Santana didn't allow herself to think about the people she had left behind, except for Brittany, but talking to Beth made her really miss them. Even man-hands.

"This is a friend of hers. From work," she mumbled pitifully and shook her head. She really didn't know how to deal with kids. Did Beth know? Had she scared the girl for life? Why was she not talking anymore?

Shelby was sitting on the carpeted floor of the Solberg's living room, frowning at this absolutely baffling cartoon the girls loved, with both Beth and Mackenzie sitting on her lap. Mackenzie was this cute redhead six year-old who had been taking the same swimming class as Beth since they were babies and now they took Karate together. They were best friends forever, according to Beth, a proclamation that always made her giggle. However, she would honestly love to see the girls friendship last. Mackenzie was a sweet little girl, extremely polite and always obedient, and Addison and Sebastian Solberg were the best non-work related relations she had in town.

Addison and she tried to do as many play dates together as they could, and they grabbed lunch just by themselves on occasion. The only reason why Shelby hadn't even signed up to go with them to the Zoo was because she usually worked Saturdays. So, Sebastian and Addison had already made a bunch of plans for an afternoon with the girls by the time Aiden cancelled rehearsals. He was probably planning on being too hangover or having some company; or both.

She had genuinely dwelled on whether she should go see Santana instead of joining the Solbergs, but Addison had immediately cheered her on and insisted on keeping Beth for the night. Mackenzie and Beth had been sleeping over each other's house for years now, so she was pretty unconcerned about it. She wondered what Addison would say however if she found out her date was with a twenty-four year-old girl, though.

The real problem, however, was the fact she always felt guilty if she indulged herself in detriment to spend time with her little girl. A drink after work was one thing, because usually by the time they wrapped up the babysitter had already put Beth in bed anyways. She didn't like not being home at night with her child, especially now that Rachel had her own show, but that wasn't always the norm and that was the advantage about her work. It could be flexible and once this gig was over, she could always just lay back for a couple of months and give private lessons.

Weekends, on the other hand, were usually all Beth's unless she was caught up in a production. She didn't want her kid to ever feel like she wasn't her number one priority. Beth swore she was okay with it, and they had spent a nice morning together to make it up for it. Shelby had cooked Beth and Rachel chocolate chip pancakes and the three of them had ridden their bikes on the park, before Rach left for the gym. They had gone shopping for a while and eaten at their favorite Italian place. Beth had seemed pretty satisfied and content to sleep over at the Solberg's, but she was still torn.

Of course, Mackenzie chose exactly that moment of her brooding to question if she would come over to the Zoo. She had sighed and tried to stall, but Beth beat her to it.

"She has an adult commitment." Shelby couldn't help but smile every time Beth came out with these big words. She was already reading on a third grade level, and she kept an Oxford dictionary on her computer table at home. Sometimes Shelby worried that her little one was too obsessed with being the best, but mostly she was just proud.

"What's that?" Mackenzie was so much better at taking things at her own pace. It was another reason Shelby liked their friendship.

"It's like an adult play date," Beth explained with air of superiority.

"Auntie Shelby, what do you do in adult play date?"

Shelby moaned internally; why did kids have to ask these questions? She heard someone snort behind her and turned to see Sebastian trying to contain his laugher while he packed snacks into the girl's backpacks. By the look on his face she knew he wasn't coming to her rescue.

"Well, Mack, we just talk and eat stuff. We go to nice places and…"

"You play?" Mack asked innocently and she heard Sebastian laugh harder. Beth was looking up at her too, waiting for better answers, and she might have given them in a better day, but right at that moment all that went through her head was dirty.

She was saved from answering when her phone started ringing and the girls raced to see who could answer it first.

"Thanks a lot, Seb," she muttered between her teeth, glad that the girl's attention was on her phone.

"What did you want me to say, Shelbs? I don't know what you do in your play dates."

She turned around and forced herself to ignore his delight at seeing her squirm. Beth came back one minute later and waved her phone in front of her face "It's your friend from work."

Shelby frowned slightly and took the cell. It said Santana very clearly on the ID.

"Beth, why don't you go with Mack to check if Auntie Addie is ready?" She suggested softly, but Beth didn't seem bothered. She grabbed Mackenzie's hand and they ran into the house. "My friend from work?"

"I panicked. I'm sorry," Santana hurriedly explained, making her crack up. It was actually funny when her smart-ass kid put somebody else on the spot for a change. "So, are you still coming?"

Shelby picked a tread on her pants and let herself mull over. She was so tempted. Just as she wavered, Addison entered the room and gave her a knowing glare, so she just accepted the invitation and memorized the directions Santana was giving her. Addison came to sit behind her on the couch.

"Just relax, Shelby. You can pick her up early tomorrow and assuage your guilt over not being super-mom, she won't care either way."

Shelby pretended to be offended, but she knew Addison was right. She couldn't even remember the last time she had tried an "adult play date" and that was a little sad.

"I owe you guys."

"I think Mack sleeps over at your place way more often than Beth crashes here, so, no. Not really."

She gave Addison a hug and then said goodbye to both of her girls before heading out and taking a cab. Shelby texted Santana on her way, and the girl was waiting outside for her, cradled inside what seemed to be a man's jacket and wearing a big grin on her face.

The reason Santana was this deviously happy, despite the fact that she had been standing outside in the cold waiting for Shelby for the past ten minutes, was because they had found a couple of sounds that were really interesting. So most of the guys were now on the booth recording a few tracks, and she had Shelby all to herself. Well, Levi was around, but he also had seen Snixx emerge plenty of times and was keenly aware she would cut his instrument off if he dared be a jerk or a creep to Shelby.

They hugged it out quickly and Santana guided Shelby inside. After Santana shrugged the coat off, Shelby could see that all she had on was one of those tight striped dresses. No wonder she had been freezing outside. Without thinking, Shelby rubbed her hands over the girl's shoulders and Santana let herself linger and bask on the small gesture, until Shelby seemed to have grown self-conscious and stopped.

Santana grabbed the hand that had dropped from her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. "I'm glad you came, you know?"

"Me too," Shelby replied while Santana dragged her down a dim-lit hallway. This was Santana, whom she liked and whose insane sense of humor she had always appreciated. And sitting around doing nothing but listening to music was as comfortable as a date would ever get. So she had no idea why she was still so anxious, but she was happy she had shown up.

Santana pulled her into a small lounge where a young guy with dirty blond hair was shuffling through some papers. She recognized him as being part of the band.

"Shelby, this is Levi, my roommate and band mate."

"And best friend," he amended quickly.

Santana rolled her eyes and snorted, throwing his coat back at him. "That's debatable. And Levi, this is Shelby, a friend of mine."

Levi looked up at Shelby with a wide smirk and suddenly she felt very naked. She didn't remember how this worked when she was young, but did you really meet the sly best friend this soon?

"Your laaaady friend."

Santana saw Shelby flush and tense up; what part of not being a jerk did Levi fail to understand? She jumped at him and slapped the back of his head.

"This is not a free joy ride, cujo. Why don't you go google donkey porn if you need to entertain yourself?"

"Or, I could go check on the band," he still had a crooked smile as he got up and left them alone. She could forgive him a little bit if his plan had been to give them privacy, but he did not earn points by doing it like a fourteen year-old. Not with the way Shelby was standing there and eyeing her. Santana suddenly became very afraid that Shelby might have gotten freaked out by the violence.

"Look, we are close. He doesn't mind," she mumbled lamely and Shelby only nodded sort of numbly. Santana, deciding to be bold, walked over to her, pried away the handbag Shelby was almost clutching and threw it at the couch. Then she started unbuttoning the mustard jacket Shelby was wearing, but the woman still felt like an icy statue under her touch.

"I'm sorry I scared you," Santana whispered while she pulled the garment down Shelby's arm and rubbed them softly. "Levi and the other boys are like brothers to me, and we can all be pretty stupid about how we interact. But I don't think abuse is okay and I'd never hurt you."

Shelby sighed and looked Santana in the eye. She certainly didn't approve of Snixx and she had flinched a bit at the slap, but it hadn't really occurred to her that Santana would hit her. It wasn't like she couldn't take care of herself either way. She wasn't frightened, she was merely on edge. Under the harsher light of day and sobriety, the fact that she found herself in a date with a woman almost twenty years her junior was nerve-wracking.

"I just haven't done this in a while."

Santana nodded sweetly and put her arms around her.

"Well, I'm great at this, Shelby. So, no problema. Just relax."

Santana caressed her stomach through her wine-colored blouse and Shelby fidgeted for a minute, but then put both of her arms over her shoulders and rested her right cheek against Santana's.

"This color looks good on you," Santana commented mischievously, her fingers playing around but not really going anywhere indecent. They were in her workplace after all.

"Well, that dress looks great on you."

Shelby was starting to unwind and go back to being herself. This felt nice and not too hard. The closeness to Santana, whose dress left so little for imagination, the younger woman's palms on her torso… so soothing, it was almost like getting inebriated again.

"I wore it just for your benefit. My ass looks damn great in it."

And fun, too. Santana was witty and Shelby loved being with people that made her smile. She let herself laugh out into San's ear.

"So I noticed. But you shouldn't have. It's cold." Even if Santana's body was all warm now.

"I'm wearing tights," Santana argued before pressing closer and kissing the bit of skin that was peeking out of Shelby's blouse. She smelled like vanilla and Burberry Brit. All Santana wanted to do all day was hold her and breathe her in.

"Tights are not pants."

Santana scoffed loudly, before pulling away and giving Shelby a very fake smile. "Your concern is registered, Coach Corcoran. Now, c'mon, I want to show you something."

Santana dragged Shelby to the piano bench, ignoring the glare she received for the 'Coach Corcoran' jab, and collected some of the sheet music they had been working on all day.

"This is your song?"

Santana beamed that 220 watts smile at her, and Shelby was glad she was already sitting down, because it made her knees a little wobbly.

"Yeah, let me sing it for you."

Shelby observed her arrange the leaves in front of them curiously. "I didn't know you played the piano."

"I didn't. I learned a bit of it, and the guitar back at Eastman. It's not like I can do Mozart or anything, it just helps me come up with some melodies."

Shelby didn't say anything, but even if Santana had only learned the basics, it was still impressive. It took a lot of dedication if you didn't learn early, and she had only been in Music School for three years.

Santana memorized some of the new piano arrangement the guys had done, hoping she could play it well, and closed her eyes. The lyrics she didn't need; they were practically engraved into her mind.

_Oh lord, I think I'm falling; to my disbelief,__  
__I'm cursing like a sailor and lying like a thief.  
__It's hard to heed the calling from the better side of me  
__when I'm blaming everybody else and no one's coming clean._

_Oh lord can you see my thick skin wearing thin  
__and the demons of a lesser me are beckoning me in.  
__Those who gathered 'round me – I'm watching them all leave;  
__cause I am my own ragged company._

_You can take a trip to China or take a boat to Spain,  
__take a blue canoe around the world and never come back again,  
__but traveling don't change a thing, it only makes it worse,  
__unless the trip you take is in to change your cruel course,  
_'_cause every town's got a mirror and every mirror still shows me  
__that I am my own ragged company._

_Won't you help me lord, won't you help me lord  
__Someone cut the cord, and I'm falling down again_

_Oh it's lonely, lord it's mighty cold  
__and I don't want to live this way; afraid of growing old.  
__It's hard to heed the warning when you cannot see the crime  
__the only way to remember is to forget in a rhyme.  
__But I'm scared to tread the red road that leads to Galilee,  
__cause I am my own ragged company._

Santana took a deep breath and choked back some tears. This song in particular made her emotional. She let her burning fingers glide through the cold keys of the grand piano, letting herself come down from this other place she had fallen into. She was still so far into her stupor that she jumped when Shelby's arm was placed around her shoulders.

Santana let her hands rest on her lap and straightened her back; she didn't want to look fragile, even as she forced these thoughts back into the closet and shut them down. Shelby started caressing her knuckles softly with her fingertips until she turned her hand around and held Shelby's. Santana pressed a quick kiss onto Shelby's shoulder and gave the woman a very weak smile, before prying away.

"Wow, this is intense. It feels like it comes from a place of…"

"Self-loathing," Santana completed and Shelby was startled. San seemed to be doing so well. She didn't want to have been this wrong about the young woman, and she also couldn't help but to feel her soul breaking in a million pieces. Santana turned around on the bench so she was facing her, strength mask firmly in place again.

"I was just in a really low place when I started writing this song. I had just moved to New York, and Britt and I had tried to scrap up our relationship again, and once more had to admit it weren't what we needed and it didn't make us happy anymore. I felt alone, and I was almost slipping back into the darkness. After that, every time I went to a self-destructive place, I'd revisit this. I added to it and rewrote it over the years. I have never performed it, though. It's the first time I even showed it to the band."

Shelby couldn't help but to scan the dark eyes for clues that this wasn't all, that Santana was lying. And Santana knew that; she could see the trepidation very clear in Shelby's hazel eyes.

"Why record it?"

"I just feel like I'm in peace now. I can still tap into these feelings, but they are in the past. I don't think I could have put all my ugliness out there for the world before. But now, it's just scar tissue."

Shelby wanted to grab Santana into her arms and tell her a million times she wasn't ugly. That she had gotten hurt and made mistakes, but that was okay. She was just human. Instead, what came out of her mouth was "Well, that's really brave of you."

Santana didn't feel very courageous. She just felt like she needed a bit of baptism by fire to finally get closure. Shelby couldn't understand that if she didn't record it, the song would always be there, open, for her to continuously build on it. She needed to rip that lonely, angry person out of Santana and let it fly away into the world. She had to say goodbye.

"So, do you want to help me with the singing? I don't want to exploit your services, but I take advices," Santana winked at Shelby, hoping to lighten up the mood but the smile she received back was still a bit muted.

"Exploit away. I just don't know if I'm qualified for this. My world is musical theatre and we usually strive to make the singing clean and perfect. And I've always felt, with jazz, that the soul is in the tiny imperfections. But, sing those first few verses again."

If Santana just wanted to take things to a lighter territory, she was happy with it. If she was focusing on technical stuff, she wouldn't be worrying senseless about the girl's state of mind, as reflected in her art. Shelby liked a challenge and she had a good ear, so she could try to stretch herself out of her boundaries for once.

Santana relinquished the piano and started running through the song _a cappella_, snapping her fingers to keep herself in time. The first time Shelby interrupted her, she told her to try going up a key. But it was clear quickly that it didn't work. Santana could hear it, obviously, but Shelby's grimace was also telling. They tried a lower key. The change forced Santana to push into a graver tone, but it really did sound better. There was a new richness to it that she really liked. Shelby changed a few notes too and worked with her until she nailed this new version. When it was perfect, Santana hadn't really been able to keep herself from jumping on the woman's neck and profusely thanking her.

Shelby got to sit around and watch proudly while Santana recorded the track in only a few takes. She was introduced to the rest of the band and Santana's producers and techs, but if anybody had any comments, they kept it to themselves. Even Levi had approached her and told her he really hadn't meant to embarrass her in any way. They talked a bit and he seemed like a nice kid, who just wanted to see Santana happy. She told him a few stories back from the Trouble Tones era; the ones that weren't really compromising for Santana, but he was entertained either way.

It was dawn when they left, and Santana wanted to walk for a while; it lasted all of five minutes before Shelby was pressing her into getting a cab. The sunset was not all that romantic when it was thirty degrees and someone only had on a jersey dress and a flimsy leather vest.

She called Addison and talked to Beth during the whole ride, but Santana didn't seem to mind. She was texting/facebooking/tweeting herself. Beth was actually much more annoyed by it and kept telling Shelby she was keeping her away from her wii game. Addison and Sebastian had the same rule as her about video games; only one hour per day, two tops during the weekends. So Beth and Mack treated missing a minute of it like the end of the world. When Shelby asked her about the Zoo all she had commented was "I sent you pictures, momma!"

Santana ended up paying the cab driver before she could, and by the time Beth was basically hanging up on her, they were standing at the side walk in front of one of those regal buildings on the Upper East Side. The nice doorman opened the door for them without a question and Santana guided her into the elevator. They got down on the 14th and Santana pushed her inside of a very spacious, classically decorated apartment. It put her own real estate heaven to shame.

"This is nice," she exclaimed taking a better look around after Santana turned on the lights. The living space was huge and there was grand piano!

"Yeah," Santana replied with her back to Shelby, while she locked and bolted the door. "It's not mine. I got an advancement from the label, but not that big of one. It's Laura's, my roommate from Eastman. Her father is loaded. She has this place all to herself and she barely even uses it now; she got a seat in an Orchestra in Boston."

Santana had hated Laura for so long. She was very Rachel Berry like, except with a thousand times more money and the added fact that they lived together. And Laura always needed to practice with the violin at the worst possible times, like throughout every single hangover Santana ever suffered. So, Santana had almost murdered her, a couple of times. But eventually they became pretty close.

"And she lets you borrow this?"

Shelby would have guessed no big shot would want his daughter passing a place that expensively set up to her friends as a booty call location.

"She owes me a few favors," Santana shrugged. Sometimes her temper was just handy. And well, she might have liked to mess with Laura, but she wouldn't allow anybody else to do so. "Just don't break anything, she's totally anal."

Shelby acquiesced, getting rid of her coat, folding it and placing over an antique chair. If she had stuff that luxurious, she wouldn't want anybody else ruining it either.

"So, do you have anything planned?"

"Who do you think you are talking to? Yes, I did the groceries yesterday, and I'll cook dinner. There will be candlelight, so nobody can ever say I'm not a romantic. And then we can do whatever you want."

Santana practically forced her into the couch and told her to relax and then went into the kitchen. Shelby took some time to get rid of her shoes and go through the mostly unfocused pictures Beth had been sending her from Addison's cell that afternoon. But the Zoo was not that exciting, and she finished the task in less than five minutes and wandered into the kitchen too.

"Is there anything I can do?" Santana turned to see Shelby just standing there, playing with her sleeves awkwardly. She wanted to prepare dinner herself; she felt it was romantic if she made it all for Shelby. But she didn't want the woman to feel out of place and bored either.

"Well," she looked around and saw the bottles of wine she had bought sitting on the counter. "You could look for the bucket and fill it with ice, and then put the wine to chill."

Santana was so sure Laura had possessed a wine refrigerator, but she hadn't been able to find it. Maybe the girl had taken it to Boston with her.

"What's the menu?" Shelby enquired while she went over the many cupboards.

"Pasta." Santana was going to cook a simple parmesan sauce and maybe grill some shrimp, and that was that. She wanted to cook for Shelby, but she didn't want to spend five hours doing something overly complicated, and she had also learned to avoid anything that could stick to your teeth on dates. Vegetables and red meat were just not sexy food.

Five minutes later, she was starting the sauce and Shelby had set up the wine, and gone to put on music. Santana had brought her iDock from home the day before and her iPod was already there, with a playlist of every sensual song just ready to roll. Once Shelby came back, she sat over the counter, and she seemed so cool, Santana felt the kitchen grow hotter.

"So, is your kid okay?"

Shelby smiled, but it was a conflicted one. She was never sure if she was letting her little one get away with too much attitude and it scared her. Beth was just so good otherwise. She never disrespected anybody, she was obedient and her behavior in school was flawless. She was just turning into kind of a mini diva.

"She is seven and already finds me obnoxious."

"Well, it only gets worse," Santana smirked at her and saw Shelby shoot her a glare.

"Thanks, I feel a lot better."

"No, seriously. Once she reaches her pre-teens and starts to get interested in boys or girls, than you'll see the nightmare. I mean, if I'm anything to go by."

Okay, so she wasn't the best example of how to be a good kid. She had always possessed a fiery temper and she was always different. She also didn't know Quinn back at the time, but she had known Puckerman all her life, and he had always been an independent smart-ass.

"She's a great kid. Hell, she's a perfect angel, really. She just has a big personality."

"Well, she's being raised by you, with Rachel Berry around. What did you expect? Just…"

"Just what?"

Santana raised her eyes from the pots to meet Shelby's. She didn't know if she could talk about Beth's birth parents. She didn't know if it would make Shelby unnerved or sad. And she felt like she was overstepping. But now, Shelby knew she wanted to say something and she seemed really curious.

She took a breath. "Quinn was my friend," Santana saw Shelby get rigid immediately and damned herself for opening her big mouth. "She was a psycho bitch most times, but she was my friend. So I saw through her. I know that all she wanted was to be perfect, because that was the only way she felt she could earn love. And you're not like the Fabrays, because they were dicks. But, let her know you love her even when she's not perfect, okay?"

Shelby agreed silently, since she was having a hard time holding her tears at bay and if she started talking it would probably come spilling out of her. She had been tense at first, not knowing where Santana had meant to arrive by bringing up Quinn, but that was the best piece of parental advice she had ever gotten from someone. She didn't need it; she adored both her daughter no matter what, and she would probably kill for either of them. But it was a grand gesture from Santana to tell her that, nonetheless. Santana had refocused on the food, giving her privacy to put herself back together, and she appreciated that too.

"Are you sure you don't need help, my sweet?"

Santana scowled in disgust and gave her a look of incredulity. "Yeah, I'm a spoonful of sugar, alright."

Shelby grinned from ear to ear and clapped her hands over her head. "Your very first musical theater joke!"

Santana's only response was to roll her eyes and shake her head. She knew Wicked, of course. She had gone to high-school with Rachel and Kurt after all; even Quinn had that stupid book, not that she would confess the crime. Santana had watched it once and she wouldn't do it ever again. It wasn't bad, it just hit a little too close to home. It gave her this chest pain, like there was a massive pressure and it would asphyxiate her.

But she could tolerate Wicked for Shelby, because the woman's glee was just infectious. It was also highly stimulating. She pointed her spoon to Shelby with a fake menacing pose and narrowed her eyes.

"God, you make even dorkiness hot. That's not fair."

"Does that mean I can call you 'my pretty' then?"

Shelby had this giddy glimmer in her eyes, so yeah, she could call her 'my pretty'. She could call her 'my hideous' if she managed to look that damn cheerful and teasing at all times. That expression on her face just gave Santana too many tingles between her legs.

"Look, I'm trying to cook you dinner, and that becomes really hard if you keep reminding me that all I want to eat is you."

Shelby licked her lips and tried to stay quiet. She knew Santana wanted so badly to give her an awesome night, and she had made such an effort. But Shelby wasn't even half interested in food in that moment, and that last suggestion had shot up straight to her brain and made her all hot and bothered.

"I'm not that hungry," she finally whispered, tentatively, but it was all it took for Santana to turn the stove off, advance on her and pull her legs open, wedging herself in between. She inched closer to Santana, with the girl's help and wrapped her legs around her waist.

Santana sweetly cupped her cheek and brought her down for a slow burning kiss. Santana's hand crept up her chest under her blouse, and when she cupped her breast over her thin lacy bra, Shelby couldn't help but to moan into their kiss and draw her hips towards Santana, craving any contact. San massaged her nipple with her thumb for a second and Shelby goraned, but it was already over and Santana wrapped her arms around Shelby's waist and tugged her off the counter. Shelby flattened her palms against the cold marble surface, and it was a good thing she did so because one second later Santana had her pants down to her ankles and was lifting her legs to get it off.

Santana planted feather-like kisses all over Shelby's covered mound, her gaze locked with the older woman's; Shelby was blinking compulsively, struggling to not let go, but Santana could see perfectly well how hard it was. Shelby actually started to shudder slightly under her touch, her breathing was becoming ragged and well, her arousal was palpable through the fabric.

Shelby had never been so worked up over so little foreplay, but watching Santana nibble her lingerie was doing more of a number on her than the barely there caresses of the Latina's pouty lips. Her legs shook even harder when Santana grabbed the fabric between her teeth and pulled it down slowly; tantalizingly slow.

Shelby kicked her panties to the side hurriedly once they reached the floor, but Santana only smiled calmly back at her. She wasn't going to give the woman what she wanted until Shelby was feverish with desire. Santana nipped the side of her thigh, racking her short nails behind her knee. She spread Shelby's legs apart and kissed, bit and licked the internal part of both her legs leisurely. By the time Santana reached her folds, Shelby was seriously trembling, but she was still observing. Her eyes were droopy and her knuckles had turned white from grappling the edge of the counter so hard, but Santana could tell she was really enjoying the show.

Shelby could feel Santana's lips on her vulva, and then her tongue pushing into her slit and licking her juices. She just gave out and let her eyes shut, the wave of sensations spreading through her almost violently. One of Santana's palm was resting flat against her stomach, helping her stay upright, and the other was now rubbing circles on the back of her left knee, having the opposite effect.

Santana ran her hand up Shelby's leg, and squeezed her ass sneakily; Shelby squealed like a little girl and it took all of Santana's self-possession to not stop fucking the woman with her tongue to giggle. She drew her hand delicately into Shelby's vagina and let her fingers trail her snatch tauntingly; Shelby's whine was so honestly distressed at that, it was clear that the woman would faint if Santana didn't make her climax.

Santana inserted one finger and then two into Shelby's pussy; she was too wet for Santana to try anything subtle at this point. Her tongue started making circular movements on Shelby's clit, and then she would grab it into her mouth and suck on it almost roughly. She bit down on it at the same time she inserted a third finger, and started going really fast, pushing her knuckles in and twisting them. Shelby's loud panting was engulfing her and she felt immersed into the woman's excitement – the sounds of it, the smell of it, the marvelous taste, the feeling of her muscles contracting against her fingers – and it was the best fucking place on earth.

Shelby, in the small floating piece of consciousness she was trying to hold on to, was torn. She didn't know if she should beg Santana to go faster, harder, deeper into her, anything to make her come already or if she should just let herself live every nanosecond of what was probably the most mind blowing sex she had experienced in the last decade. It helped that she had a seven year-old daughter and she never dated, and guys were terrible at oral anyway so she barely ever got to bask on the delicious feel of a tongue properly caressing her, but it was riveting nonetheless. Shelby felt it all burn from the inside out, her body seemingly opening and closing in motions and her brain turning into this puddle of undistinguishable bliss, until she finally came undone.

Shelby's legs buckled so quickly, Santana almost didn't catch her. The girl wondered for a moment if she had made the woman black out, which, no matter how frantic she instantly got, was a new high for her abilities. But once her ass was basically on the cold floor and her back leaned solidly against the lower cupboards, Shelby opened her eyes and smiled at Santana.

"That was hot. Like, almost giving me a heart attack hot."

Santana stretched like a cat and stroke Shelby's naked legs, haphazardly thrown over hers.

"You're hot, huh?" She had just seen the bucket sitting there and she had gotten a filthy idea. She carefully pulled on Shelby's legs until the older woman was lying flat on the floor. Shelby seemed surprised and confused at first, but didn't complain. Santana grabbed the bucket and put it next to her, before fishing for an ice cube. She took it to Shelby's pussy and massaged her flesh with it. Shelby's cry was actually louder than any sound she had ever persuaded out of the woman before.

Shelby hadn't even finished trembling from her orgasm and she was back to shivering madly. The cold was almost too painful, the sensations overwhelming since she was still feeling the aftershocks. Before she could voice a plea, Santana removed the ice cube and towered over her.

"Open your mouth," she whispered kindly, almost as if she was talking to a child. It was so unexpected that Shelby merely blinked for a second, but then obeyed and San slipped the ice cube between her lips. She could taste herself on it, which was strange, but sort of delicious in a way that made the muscles between her legs contract. Santana was brushing her hair and kissing her cheek with such a tenderness that only made Shelby yearn harder for the young woman.

"Good girl," Santana whispered and then gestured for Shelby to spit it out back on her hand. The cube was significantly smaller, and Santana pushed it into Shelby's still searing hole in a flash, making Shelby thrust her hips and writhe almost convulsively on the ground. Santana smacked Shelby's clit jokingly; she didn't want to hurt her, and for a second she froze in place afraid when Shelby's scowl indicated agony.

Shelby herself wasn't sure if she was being treated to pleasure or torture for a minute. The slap on her pussy shot through her like a bullet, mixing with the frostiness sipping into her walls and making muscles she didn't even know she had clench excruciatingly. But once they loosened up, the relief might have been the best event of her life, and a whole new type of heat hugged her insides.

Santana watched as Shelby took deep breaths and then her grimace twisted back into the good type of agony, the type that Santana wanted very much for her to be experiencing. The next chop, Santana rubbed slowly over Shelby's navel, trailing up her stomach until she pushed it inside of her bra, against her already hard nipple. Shelby actually gripped her own hair at that.

Shelby felt Santana lift her blouse and helped her get it off her with the best of abilities which, at that moment, were deficient at best. Santana thought about just discarding the piece, but instead, folded it into a medium sized square and placed under Shelby's head. She put a new ice cube into her own mouth and sucked on it while she removed Shelby's bra.

The minute the freezing sensation on one of her nipples was gone, Shelby felt Santana's tongue wrapped around the other, making a monumental chill run down her spine. She pressed her legs together, trying to get any friction around the little piece of quickly melting ice inside of her, and failing miserably. Santana took pity of her and forced her knee between her legs, and the minute Shelby felt the girl's hard kneecap stroking her core, the texture of the fabric of San's tights giving her the little she needed, her body exploded.

Shelby wasn't sure if it had taken her a few minutes or a couple of hours to regain awareness of her surroundings, but once she did Santana was once again sitting smugly across her middle, except now the girl's legs were on top.

"This… Er… I…" she babbled incoherently, making Santana laugh that wonderful delighted laughter of hers and murmur "Duh."

Santana had done some serious training these past years, and it was all easier when she was simply devoted to pleasing a woman. If all she had to hope for was making Shelby feel like that and look like that, she would still be pursuing the longest possible relationship with this creature.

"So, is that a yes? On 'my pretty'?"

Santana scoffed, despite the fact that the image of Shelby all messed up and flushed, naked on a kitchen floor, calling her 'my pretty' made the ache she had been trying to ignore between her own legs grow exponentially.

"Well, I'm certainly very pretty. But then, I'd have to call you honeybear." Shelby's face instantly fell in a very comic way. "Yeeees, I paid attention sometimes while your spawn babbled about Broadway dorkiness."

"That's not fair, honeybear is embarrassing."

Shelby gave her this pitiful pout, and Santana emphatically rolled her eyes, before raising her hands in surrender.

"You can call me whatever in the world you want, but you're paying for pizza, because I'm starving."

Shelby smiled in the most devious way known to men and then advanced on her like a panther. Santana's dress had ridden up enough that all it took was a little pull, and it was around her waist, giving Shelby free access.

Shelby rested her hand over Santana's pussy; she had soaked through her tights and the thought that going down on her alone had had this effect made Shelby so ready for another round, even if her body hadn't even half recovered. She patted Santana gently between the legs and nibbled her earlobe, before muttering "Deal."

Yes, she would pay for the pizza. She would pay for an entire freaking buffet if so Santana wished. As soon as she got her own hunger satiated.

* * *

**A/N: I don't write music at all. I'm basically the worst at it. The song Santana shows to Shelby is Grace Potter and The Nocturnals' _Ragged Company._ I don't own it and intend no profit from its use in this story. I just thought the lyrics fit some of Santana's journey nicely. If anybody is curious, you can definitively hear the song on their official website. **


	3. You Can Go Heavy on Me

**A/N: Sorry this took a while. I'm writing two stories at the same time. I wanted to do a Holidays chapter for Santana and Shelby, but I'm really out of ideas and already writing a Holidays fic, so for now, this is the end of this. Thanks for everybody who read, reviewed, favorited or followed this story. I'm so grateful to all of you. Every single alert I get about this fic puts a smile on my face. It was a pleasure doing it.**

**The warning for sexual content from the last chapter applies to this chapter as well. Also, the language, as always, is pretty adult. **

* * *

**Chapter 3 - You Can Go Heavy On Me**

Santana put on her red thong and an old t-shirt she carried on her night bag, and stood in front of the window. Laura had a colossal view of Manhattan and it made this verve that was already tingling through her spread. She loved this. Feeling so alive that she could quite well slip into this fantastic stupor.

She had had an amazing night with Shelby. After their impromptu fuck fest in the kitchen, which Santana was going to have to sterilize before Laura was back in town, they had showered and slipped on fluffy robes Santana had purchased specifically for the occasion to eat their pizzas. Santana had raided Laura's game board collection and they had played S_crabble_ (including a very humorous round of filthy words only) and _War_, which only proved something she already knew – Shelby was the most competitive person alive. Every time she lost, she would stare at the board as if analyzing how such a thing could have occurred and as if the sight of the game alone was incredibly offensive.

Santana guessed that she either had needed some time to cope with what happened with the Trouble Tones, or the woman's mind really hadn't been in it, which was okay. She had been so pissed at first, hearing from Rachel and Sugar that Shelby had unceremoniously left, even though Sugar's dad would have kept her employed, and Mercedes and she would have jumped at the opportunity to keep studying music under her too.

However, Puck had eventually shared with her what went down with Shelby, Quinn and him, much to her chagrin. She hadn't taken sides then and she wouldn't now; she adored all these people in different ways and it seemed pretty clear they had all fucked up all around. But at least she understood why Shelby not only had seemed unfazed by their defeat and then had run out of the state like her pants were on fire. If Beth was her daughter, Santana would have left much earlier, moved to a Latin America country and changed her name.

Eventually Santana had starting letting Shelby win, and Shelby took notice of it in all of five seconds, so they had stopped playing and indulged in some heavy petting, that turned into some slow paced sex. Shelby seemed drained by the end of it, so Santana had insisted on cuddling until the woman gave out and fell asleep on the couch.

4:00 AM was a time in which Santana felt the most creative. She had yet to investigate the reasons for it, if there was even a rational explanation; maybe it was the silence. Even in New York City, it felt like the world around you dimmed its presence and your consciousness just pushed out, expanding and taking different forms.

She grabbed a notepad and a pencil from her bag and sat on the floor next to the window. The lights of NYC were bright enough. Santana never wrote sappy songs about love, for obvious reasons, but her time with Shelby gave her such good energy that she wanted to pin it down. Not something sugary about how beautiful their connection was and forever, just about how oddly affecting it was to want somebody badly for a change. To want to let go and just be, and to wish Shelby was free and comfortable too.

She started scribbling in disarray, commanding the words to come to her and getting a bit pissed that she didn't carry a dictionary around. The words she wanted came to her at the same time as the melody, and she sat on the piano and started playing, so focused on finding a sound, she obliterated Shelby's peaceful sleep from her mind. It took her almost an hour to find the right tune, and she should have realized all of that fussing would arouse Shelby, but when she was trying to compose she went to this place where other people didn't matter.

_Born unto this pride  
__Silence is something you can't hide  
__You can't deny...us  
__Nothing has been said  
__Yet so many words have filled my head  
__Now they completely surround me_

_Tie the lines of honest conductivity  
__Caught between the center of our gravity  
__I don't have that much time to burn anymore_

_You can go heavy on me  
__And I will not weigh you down  
_

Shelby had actually been up since Santana had hurdled her to get away; she had a kid and she was a light sleeper. She thought about summoning the girl to come back, but Santana seemed pretty glad in her own little world. So she had let the drowsiness dull her senses and dozed off once more, but as the piano grew louder, she grumpily gave up and sat down to observe Santana's process. She wasn't sure if the fact that examining someone else's artistic method turned her on was weird. She was just always drawn to special people, probably because her own imagination was bizarre, and seeing Santana at her most sensitive and unguarded, was causing surges of lust and affection to flood her all at once.

The song was unlike what she had seen Santana do so far; it wasn't very jazzy or soulful, but it still had those daunting imprints from Santana's other lyrics. She didn't bother getting dressed before joining Santana at the bench; she could only hope she wasn't flashing any of Laura's neighbors.

"Is that about me?"

Shelby asked carefully, but even so, Santana halted next to her and the music died.

"It's just a first draft," she finally explained hurriedly, not really lifting her gaze.

Santana really hated when people listened to her stuff before she was ready to share. She knew it was her own fault for disturbing Shelby, but she became stressed. What if Shelby reacted badly to her lyrics? They were only on their first date, even if they had known each other years before, and Santana was already making her the subject of her music. She felt like Taylor Swift all of a sudden.

"It's beautiful."

Santana faced Shelby and she had this pensive, distant air that didn't indicate she was saying it out of politeness.

"Well, right now it's a mumble jumble of first impressions," she knew she had something there, but she wasn't going to tap into it if they kept having this conversation. She guessed she was somehow trying to send Shelby a message; she was ready to try being more than someone's fuck budy. But there was a reason she preferred to say important things through songs, and that usually meant avoiding a talk altogether.

Shelby seemed on the same page though, as her only comeback was to lock her lips into the back of Santana's neck. Santana could work with this too; she also much preferred sex to exposition, but she had been in a vibe she wasn't keen on interrupting, so she casually extricated herself. Or perhaps not so casually, since Shelby had promptly looked like a kicked puppy. She kissed Shelby's pout and questioned "May I have five?"

Shelby didn't seem terribly offended, but Santana had read women wrong in the past so she wasn't sure once the older woman simply got up and walked away. She sighed and tried to get back to work, but everything that came out was just utterly crap and not honest. It wasn't Shelby's fault, but the woman had really burst her bubble, and now that she was trying to force, the song was coming out strained. She was so frustrated she basically hauled her pencil across the room and she even flinched at that. _'A temper tantrum is not okay, Santana' _she repeated in her mind about four times before turning to see where Shelby had gone, only to find her right there.

She was standing uneasily in the shadows, sort of hugging herself and her bright hazel eyes seemed clouded. How could she possibly keep messing up this opportunity she had gotten to be with this great, intelligent, mature woman who basically adored her by acting like a vapid irate bitch at all times? At least her voice didn't show any traces of real fear when she said "I'm sorry, Santana. I didn't mean to interrupt your work."

Santana really didn't want to see Shelby flinch and make herself small because of her antics. She was the one who was being childish. She was just used to not care about what people thought of her deeds, and the guys usually took her touchiness with a grain of salt.

"You didn't. And I'm sorry I threw the thing and that I was a bit cold to you; it was not fair."

"It's fair to need your space to focus on your craft. Just…"

That conversation was making Santana jittery. She didn't like the course it was taking and she hated it that she couldn't see Shelby properly. She didn't want for things to end before they even started, so she stretched out her hand, tugging Shelby to come over. Shelby accepted it and settled next to her.

"I've always known I was different, you know? Even before I stepped out of denial, I always felt misplaced and under attack. I don't know when I figured out that getting on other people's faces made them uncomfortable, so they would never come into mine. Or when letting my energy detonate into aggression became such a relief, that it was the only way I could cope with having to be me. It's not like I find it cool or cute to do this, and it's not like I want to stay this person."

Shelby had seen Santana distraught in the past, but that had really come out of nowhere and blindsided her. She had an idea why Santana would give her some type of speech, but the tears just had her baffled.

"Why are telling me this, San?"

"I don't want you to keep seeing this side of me. I don't want you to be grossed out and leave because you think I'm a tug."

Shelby did her best to shift Santana so she was almost in her lap and Shelby could put her arms around the skinnier woman. She had been disturbed by Santana's song earlier and she had tried to let it go because they were just in the beginnings stages of something totally undefined, but if Santana was going to be this frightened around her there was no point.

The truth was Santana was convinced there was a pretty ugly part of her she had to scrape in order to become lovable. Shelby didn't think the girl realized she wasn't that different from Quinn in that respect. Her temper certainly wasn't an always – or even mostly - amusing quality, but it was her survivor mark. She admired, to an extent, that Santana had fought instead of crumbling under the weight of her insecurities about who she was. But soldiers walked alone, and that wasn't an easy skin to shed when you were trying to become someone's partner.

"It's okay to have a way to express yourself, and release your struggles. Everybody needs a valve, even if it isn't a pretty one. I'm not saying that I condone violence, but if it has become such a big part of your character, it would be easier if you learned to control your temper and let it out when it can't hurt anybody else, than if you try to reinvent yourself as a better human being. I know you and I like you. I'm not always going to approve of your actions or even your ideas, but I still like you."

Santana finally looked up at her, eyes still with so many doubts, and Shelby realized that despite all of her flamboyance, Santana would remain, for a while, that girl that feared rejection. She was going to be saying 'Yeah, I'm still here' a lot if this relationship went any further.

"I'm much more easily spooked when I'm not really interested in a person, San."

She was prone to disappearing, dodging calls, coming up with excuses. She had been presented with many chances to bolt that Saturday, and instead, she was sitting naked in a stranger's piano bench, holding a girl as old as her biological daughter, seeking her lips. Seeking her tongue. Kneading her breasts and tracing patterns on her abs.

The next day they had ended up at brunch at _Pastis_. Santana had woken up early and sought to prepare breakfast for Shelby, but the woman had trapped her in bed and wasn't letting out until Santana agreed to let Shelby treat her to something for a change. The place was rock solid cool, of course, and as someone who enjoyed food, Santana was looking forward to see if it deserved its reputation, but she was excited the most about the fact that Shelby had dragged her back to her neighborhood.

They had even passed in front of her building and Shelby had showed her which apartment was supposed to be hers from the outside. They were huddled up in a table in the corner, practically falling on top of each other and giggling like schoolgirls; like a couple. Now, Santana wasn't fond of going out in public with closeted people, because that was always at least a little demeaning. Shelby hadn't been going to any lengths to hide that they were together so far, but Santana would have understood if this was different.

They could bump into her neighbors. People that didn't need to know who Shelby fucked, because they had contact with her in a whole different sphere. And they likely knew her kids. So, she was thrilled that Shelby was being so carefree.

Santana was nursing her Bloody Mary and trying not to laugh at the pink champagne thing Shelby had ordered, but barely touched; it was so girly. And it was so control-freakish of her to order alcohol, but to not really benefit from it, because she didn't want to be in any way tipsy once she picked up her daughter in a couple of hours. Shelby's unbalanced worry about being a decent mother made her even more endearing to Santana's eyes.

The waiter came back with Shelby's _Egg Hussard_ which made Santana scrunch up her nose at first, but she was going to try and figure it out later. Laura had been the one to force her into cooking these fine, posh things, but Santana had actually acquired a taste for it. It looked peculiar, but so did most of the things Santana had come to appreciate being hassled with Laura's existence in her life. She had preferred an omelet with french fries and bacon, but only because she abused the leftover wine the previous night or morning, after Shelby's had coaxed her into incredibly physically demanding piano bench sex. She needed fried things to ease her hangover.

Once they were done eating, they ordered coffee and Shelby watched as she passed some of the lyrics she had composed the previous day to her phone. Santana had somehow leveraged with Shelby that she would let the older woman do whatever she wanted with her body, if Shelby accepted to try and finish her tune. She didn't think Shelby had taken her seriously and indeed, when she finished her copying task and handed Shelby the piece of paper, the woman looked dumbfounded.

Shelby took the paper with a dramatic sigh and took a better look at it. She had never written anything in her life. That was just not the type of talent she possessed, and Santana was surprisingly accomplished in that field. She didn't want to make an ass of herself by ruining what was turning out to be such a lovely song. So she changed the subject.

"This is unusual for you," she commented with a frown. The arrangement Santana had been developing had some pop undertones; not mainstream pop, but still pop.

"No, it's not. I mean, I guess it's not my official shtick now that I'm recording, and I'll have a brand. But I don't just write jazz. There are a lot of other references to which I'm very receptive. I still love Florence and the Machine, Ellie Goulding, Regina Spektor, and I adore indie rock."

Shelby smiled; she didn't know that. Yes, Santana liked to suggest obscure things for them to cover back at the Trouble Tones times, but they were mostly reggae or soul music. Occasionally, heavy metal. But Shelby had always wondered if that was to test her. She also pondered if Santana had known her eventual audition song before Shelby had suggested it was perfect for her, or if she had become into Florence after wards. She sort of liked the idea of Santana holding on to things she took from their relation.

"It's nice to be versatile and I think that what you have so far is very compelling."

"Well, great," Santana opened a big fake smile. She was so not getting out of that stupid task. "Because, I meant what I said last night. You are finishing this, because you wouldn't let me. You owe me."

"I could try. But I really, really, don't write all that well. Your song will end up sucking."

"So? If it's going to be about us, it's okay to be by us."

Shelby couldn't argue with that. It wasn't something for Santana's professional life, yet. It was just about them throwing around ways to express to each other and that allowed Shelby to be terrible, as long as she was sincere. But she was still a bit concerned about turning on something dreadful.

"Fine, as you wish, my pretty." Shelby hugged Santana and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before dumping the paper inside her own handbag. She had been hesitant about carrying on with this 'my pretty' gag, but Santana's face every time she said was so worth it.

SHELTANA

It had been two weeks since Shelby and Santana were able to spend time together; or at least, face to face time. They had, at a night neither was working, watched "Before Sunset" simultaneously and texted each other during it. They had carried on wacky conversations over the phone that only proved they were both odd cookies. And they wouldn't go a day without leaving at least one private message at each other's Facebook pages, since apparently Rachel had convinced Shelby to join.

Santana had worked both nights during the subsequent weekend and Shelby had already planned to take Beth to this Afternoon Tea for little girls thing on the Saturday and a matinee show on Broadway on Sunday, but even if it wasn't locked down, Santana didn't want to cut into Shelby's time with her young daughter.

As Friday approached though, they had both secured ways to find each other. Beth was in yet another sleepover with Mack, and Santana hadn't taken a job in a club that night. She had needed to stay in the studio until pretty late, however, and that actually gave Shelby time to bake cupcakes with the girls at the Solberg's and watch half of _Sister's Act _on TV with them before putting them to bed.

Shelby had managed to arrive in front of Radio Music Hall just fifteen minutes before 10:00 PM, and Santana was already waiting for her, looking slightly anxious. Santana was in a red cocktail dress with an ethnic print and her hair was down, and Shelby suddenly felt underdressed in her brown cigarette pants and navy blue jacket. Shelby engulfed the girl in a hug, feeling sheepish.

"I'm sorry. I guess I almost fell asleep along with the girls."

Santana mock glared and comically gaped at her. "I would have been so mad if you had stood me up. I got us premium tickets."

"To what?" Shelby asked, half curious, half hopeful that it wasn't anything fancy. There was probably icing on her cream silk top to boot.

Santana smiled widely and announced "The Christmas Spectacular," with jazz hands and show face and everything, and all Shelby had done was stand there, deflated. "What's wrong? I thought you would love this. It's flashy, and campy, and corny! Please don't tell me you hate the Rockettes."

Shelby sighed. No, she didn't hate the Rockettes. And she was dying to see the show. But she watched it every year with Rachel, Beth and all the Solberg family, and they hadn't done it yet; they were waiting until December. It was her family tradition, along with Wicked matinees, the season's Christmas musical and Nutcracker over the holidays. She didn't know how to feel doing it without them.

"It's just that I see with the girls every year…"

Santana's face fell and she let out a muffled "Oh." She didn't know if that meant Shelby wasn't opened to watching it with anybody else, but the cheerful mood was already totally ruined. She was pretty bummed that Shelby seemed so bummed.

"We should trade the tickets or sell them, or something. We can do something else."

Shelby grimaced, feeling totally shitty. She didn't mean to put Santana out. It was an inspired idea, and one that pointed to how much the girl knew her and cared for her enjoyment. She didn't want them to be forced to go do something generic instead, and she didn't want to make Santana feel inadequate in any way. She was actually looking forward to the show, and she guessed she was going to have to be a little less stoked when she repeated the experience with her daughters.

Of course, though, Santana and she had argued it out in the side walk. Santana didn't want her to pretend to want to see the show with her, Shelby really wanted to see the show with her and was sorry it had seemed like she didn't, and back and forth until Shelby almost dragged the Latina into Radio City. The show had been awesome, evidently, and Shelby had pushed her issues to the back of her head and let her glee prevail, which in turn had made Santana take pleasure in it too.

Shelby actually had to convince her to stop mimicking the choreography with her hands inside the cab, and Santana wasn't sure if the woman was embarrassed or jealous of the salacious way the driver was eyeing her. The convincing, of course, only took place after Santana had run through half of their old _I Will Survive/Survivor _mash-up and the guy actually passed a red light due to distraction.

"So what are doing today?" Shelby asked once they walked into Laura's apartment.

"What do you mean?" Santana ran up to the piano, sat on her heels on the bench and made a grand gesture. "I want my song."

Shelby took her hands to her face and mock wept into them. She had agonized about that stupid song for two whole weeks. It was hard to feel inspired when you are so busy all the time, and she obviously didn't have the talent for this. Any other day, she would have just tossed the task aside and devoted herself more into finding an excuse for not making an effort.

Strangely, though, she didn't want to let Santana down by being dismissive. So she had curled up with a poetry anthology every day before going to bed, and soaked up everything from Pope to Milton, wondering if Santana would notice if she just copied _She Walks in Beauty_. She had tried really hard to train her brain; with the exception of when she took a little detour through Alison Tyler – and now that Beth could read she realized she needed to make those books disappear.

Since all of that had failed, she had asked Erik for a quick workshop and finally made some progress. She was still shaky about it, but she knew Santana was dying to hear what she had come up with it, even if it had been a failure. She sat next to Santana and opened the lid; her talents in songwriting might be limited, but she had been playing since she was 3 years-old, and singing even before that, so this part she could do well. She could sell the song.

_Now I've come to cry  
__Shed your skin to rest my naked eye  
__And criticize  
__All that I implore  
__Seems to be one foot outside that door  
__Coming between me and waking_

_Underneath the corset of your mystery  
__Piece by piece undress you from your history  
__I'm sleeping with seclusion in sweet disarray_

_You can go heavy on me  
__And I will not weigh you down, down, down  
__You can be steady and clean  
__I can take it  
__Heavy on me  
__And I will not weigh you down_

_Born unto this pride  
__Silence is something you can't hide  
__You can't deny...us  
__Nothing has been said  
__Yet so many words have filled my head  
__Now they completely surround me_

_Tie the lines of honest conductivity  
__Caught between the center of our gravity  
__I don't have that much time to burn anymore_

_You can go heavy on me  
__And I will not weigh you down, down, down  
__You can be steady and clean  
__I can take it  
__Heavy on me  
__And I will not weigh you down_

_Underneath the corset of your mystery  
__Piece by piece undress you from your history  
__I'm sleeping with seclusion in sweet disarray_

_You can go heavy on me  
__And I will not weigh you down, down, down  
__You can be steady and clean  
__I can take it  
__Heavy on me  
__And I will not weigh you down_

Shelby finished and glanced expectantly at Santana, who was looking at her with what Shelby sure hoped was awe. Santana put her hand on Shelby thigh and squeezed, and Shelby raised her eyebrow at the girl.

"We should definitively have sex on this bench again. Right now."

"Does that mean that you like it?" Shelby questioned in faux confusion and Santana groaned and sat on Shelby's lap immediately. Shelby was still giggling, all proud of herself, when Santana shut her up with her tongue. It was a good three minutes before either of them started feeling the lack of air, bless their singing careers, but they still insisted for a while longer. Santana's lips were dry by the time she pulled away, and Shelby had that look in her eyes that informed Santana that they were short of forgetting dinner all over again, so she just jumped off the woman and leaned against the piano behind her.

"See, sometimes you can find yourself against the wall about doing something you feel incapable of doing, but if you just try, the results can be amazing," Santana sassed up to Shelby, who still didn't look very certain. This was actually much better than even Santana had expected, and it said so much about the both of them. She was moved by it, and she actually wouldn't mind trying to record it, even if she just asked the guys to do it with their own amateur equipment at home so she could give it as a gift to Shelby later.

"I'm not sure about amazing, but I sort of enjoyed doing this for you," Shelby emphasized the 'you', her fingertips running over Santana's stomach suggestively. "Now what will you do for me?"

"Well, remember when we were at brunch and you showed me all of your favorite foods? I'm making you Eggs Benedict, Caesar Salad with bacon – which, by the way, best idea ever – and then waffles, because I really wanted them and you didn't allow me to make them two weeks ago."

"So, breakfast for dinner," Shelby crossed her legs and smirked, too amused to miss the chance to mess with Santana.

"Uh, yeah. What could be more awesome?"

"Well, that is going to depend on the quality of your hollandaise sauce, my pretty."

Santana made a wide gesture that Shelby was sure supposedly meant 'don't even mention it' and walked into the kitchen. Shelby made herself comfortable, and played a few songs on the piano. Just some of the things that didn't require belting, because she had been forcing so much while showing the cast of the workshop how to hit some of the more daring notes, she was starting to feel the strain. She had just finished doing _There's No Business Like Show Business_, probably one of her favorite tunes ever, and decided that was probably a good enough pick to close her little show to nobody.

She wanted to go hang out with Santana, but feared they would just end up on the floor naked again; Santana had said three times already that she didn't want to end up ordering pizza and Shelby was trying really hard to respect that. The young woman's commitment to feed her properly was so quirky and truly lovely. She turned on the TV and watched half of one those criminal shows, but the episode in question was just starting to disturb the shit out of her.

She turned on the heating, which both Santana and she had neglected to do when they arrived, shed her jacket and took her time freshening up a bit in the bathroom. She hadn't meant to spy on Santana's friend; she was so bored, and started wandering around, taking a peep at the other rooms. She really didn't know how she had ended up standing inside the master bedroom, looking down at Laura's sex drawer. She debated with herself if she should show Santana this, but she was already beyond burned on morals and her mischievous streak won.

"That bitch!" Shelby expected Santana to have a strong reaction, but not an enraged one.

"Santana!"

Santana didn't even move at Shelby's shriek. She felt she had the right to be incensed that Saint. Laura had a sex toy collection the size of the Vatican Treasures, and more depraved than hers in many levels – even if they had totally violated her privacy to find that out.

"She made me believe she was super prudish, and always gave me shit over my very active sexual life, and she's filthy! This is not the drawer of a good catholic girl; this is the drawer of a girl who enjoys sex just as much as me. C'mon, dinner is almost ready," she barked at Shelby, who seemed mortified to have been the one to point her to Laura's kinky stash, and marched out. She only turned to see Shelby following, a shade of red on her face, and grabbed the woman's hand to pull her closer. That seemed to be enough for Shelby to accept she wasn't really pissed, and they made out briefly against the hall's wall before Santana remembered she had to tend to the food.

She told Shelby to open the champagne – Santana wanted to do the funny cocktails too – and playing with the jigger seemed to keep the older woman occupied long enough for Santana to wrap it up and plate her masterpieces. They were both halfway through their meals, Shelby being head over heels in love with Santana's cooking skills and barely speaking between mouthfuls now that she had given up on making Santana spill her secrets, when Santana stopped focusing on her eggs and her already second drink and cleared her throat.

She had been a bit harsh earlier, mostly because she was worried this whole delicate thing she was preparing would fall apart; she was sure Shelby had thought showing her the drawer would initiate some outrageous comments and hard laughs and she didn't want Shelby to feel she wasn't interested.

"I'll do anything you want me to, you know?" Shelby just looked up from her food and frowned deeply, clearly at a loss with this random statement. "Tonight, in bed. Except, playing with her vibrators, because that's gross. I don't know where those things have been or what her hygiene standards are." That made Shelby crack up laughing. "But sexually, I'm into pretty much anything."

"Noted," Shelby curtly acknowledged, but there was a glint in her eyes that told Santana she got her thinking. And that was never not awesome; Santana loved an adventurous partner.

Santana took a few more bites of her food, but she was already plenty satisfied and decided to play with the champagne to pass the time; and with Shelby.

"I have plenty dildos at home though, if that's your thing. I can make Levi bring it here."

Shelby almost did a spit take at that and her repulsed scowl deserved to be Instagram-ed.

"I would rather pluck my own eyelashes out," she whispered, her horror so patent, Santana was almost doubling into herself and falling on the floor cackling.

"He would never tease you! He'd tease me, of course, but whatever. As if I'd let Levi get in the way of giving my beloved an orgasm," Santana said, wriggling her eyebrows impishly.

Shelby still looked like she could throw a knife on her face.

"How many of these cocktails have you had again?"

Santana and Shelby bickered through the rest of the meal, and even if Santana had been almost breathing in her waffles – regardless of her hunger - she found plenty of opportunity to mock Shelby. And Shelby wasn't one to not talk back.

Then they moved the drinking to the living room and threw some cushions on the floor so they could lie down more comfortably. Laura had a nice couch, but it was also pretty narrow. They were both sipping Mimosas – orange juice was the only thing they hadn't drowned at that point, and Santana was showing the Trouble Tones' Regionals performance to Shelby. They ended up getting carried on talking about the past, and Santana perused another half a dozen videos from college stuff for the woman before their cuddling was reaching ridiculous innocence. It was already 1 AM and so Santana decided to pull them back on track.

"So, do you want to play this vanilla or spicy?"

Shelby didn't even unglue her eyes from the video of Santana singing _Sleepy Man_ in one of Eastman's assemblies when she muttered "I think I'll give you free reign over my body."

Santana shot up, and her heart might have skipped a beat; Shelby better not be joking.

"Really?"

Shelby paused the video and faced her, unfazed.

"This is a great song for you! Yeah, really, my pretty. Just, no butt stuff."

"Get naked."

Santana ordered before getting on her feet and sprinting out of the room. She almost tripped on her own feet in her lunatic attempt to reach Laura's bedroom and she pulled on the drawer with such force, she was lucky it hadn't landed on her lap. She couldn't be happier that Laura was a furtive sexual devious.

When she rushed back, Shelby was already completely nude, lying casually on her stomach and still playing with Santana's cell. Santana's mouth watered and her pussy started getting moist just at the sight of Shelby's curves all exposed like that, her thick glossy hair falling in waves over the woman's muscular back as she tilted her head and also gave Santana a preview of her full breasts.

Shelby turned the phone off and put it safely on the couch once she heard Santana get closer; she watched, already aroused, as the younger woman rounded her, taking in everything and then kneeled next to her. Santana put whatever she had retrieved on the ground, but there was a pillow on the way and Shelby couldn't see what awaited her. She was dying of curiosity, but Santana's fingers trailing the design of her body softly was enough to keep her otherwise engaged.

"You're so beautiful," Santana whispered reverently, making Shelby come close to tearing up, so touched that she became. Shelby cupped Santana's cheek and brought her close for a kiss, but instead they ended up just nuzzling.

"You're perfect as well, my sweet."

"So, how are you with pain?"

Shelby's eyebrows shot up at Santana's question. It wasn't that she had no idea where that talk was going; she knew all too well. She liked to keep an open mind, so she had learned from a couple of boyfriends that childbirth aside, her pain threshold was minimal.

"I won't stop you, but I'll scream."

"Oh, that's okay, I can always gag you." Santana's retort hadn't been planned. If she had done any thinking, she would have been apprehensive about crossing the line. But Shelby wasn't outraged or scared; she was still cool, still smiling.

"Oh my God, really? This is so hot. You're so hot." Santana was almost sniffling by the end of the rant, damn her weepy drunkenness. She was just over the moon. Santana had been aware Shelby was way on the side of kinky and she had about forty text messages to prove it; she also knew Shelby would let her top her and push her limits, as proved by their first date. But Shelby was opinionated and cheeky; shutting her up was the last in a long list of things Santana had ever imagined Shelby would permit. And yet, there she was, grabbing the woman's silk scarf from her bag with every intention of using it.

Shelby had rolled onto her back while Santana was in her retrieving mission, and watched not entirely happy the nipple clamps come out of hiding as soon as Santana was back. Her nipples were too sensitive, so she would probably meet a world of pain. She only had two reasons not to stop this from going ahead. The first was the way Santana's face had lightened up, as if Christmas, Easter and the Grammy Awards had all arrived at once. The second was the not so faint memory of the earth-shattering orgasm she had experienced the last time she had agreed to pain-play.

Santana clicked both of the clamps in place and Shelby instantly groaned. Those things were tight, and soon enough, the acute sting turned into fire, and she whimpered louder. "This. Hurts," she announced, her jaw clenched from the agony.

"It's. Supposed. To," Santana punctuated while she sat on the sofa to shed off her clothes.

Shelby watched as Santana took her time getting rid of her shoes, and moaned copiously, the heel of her hand pressed against her forehead in a dramatic pose. As the discomfort eased into the back of her mind though, she grew quickly soaked. Santana was unzipping her dress at a snail's pace, enjoying seeing her squirm, and without a coherent thought registering, Shelby slid her hand between her legs. Santana was on it, however, and caught both of her wrists before she could even give a flick to her clit.

"No playing with yourself, Drama Queen."

"But I need it, San. I'm in pain." Shelby pouted and turned her puppy to the maximum, verifying just how theatrical she could be, but Santana just chuckled at her antics and placed both of her arms back at her sides.

Santana knew Shelby wasn't serious; if the ache was too unbearable the woman would have ripped the clamps off, and Santana would never have stopped her. This much whining, though, and the fact that Shelby was almost dripping into the carpet, meant she could take Santana taunting her for one more minute. She took off her dress and then her black knee socks, but kept the emerald lingerie she had purchased the day after she had prompted Shelby into telling her that green was her favorite color. It had the desired effect; even in her current state, Shelby was grinning up at her like the Cherish Cat. Santana sat over Shelby's hips, careful to not press into her stomach, and also to lock in both of the woman's arms between her legs.

Shelby yelped once the first nipple clamp came off. She had actually been joking about screaming, but when the soreness in her right breast had been replaced by the throbbing surge of blood, she had seen stars. By the time the pulsing ache dimmed and she fell back into reality, Santana was stroking her torso affectionately and shaking the scarf on her free hand.

Santana bent closer and asked "Are you okay, love?"

Shelby took a deep breath before spitting a sarcastic "Never better."

Santana leered as she twisted the fabric a little bit and lowered it into Shelby's open lips. She helped Shelby lift her head so she could tie the thing and she kept it simple in case the woman got less willing to put up with this much torment or couldn't breathe, and needed to rip it off. She took both of Shelby's hands and placed them over her legs to give the woman the autonomy to do it.

Santana lowered her mouth into the breast she had freed and patted it with her tongue a couple of times before seizing Shelby's nipple between her teeth and pulling on it until the older woman was shouting through the cloth. Of all the erotic visions Santana had been privy of in her blessed life, this was a Top 3 favorite, no arguments. She would suck and lick Shelby's boob, cause her some minor twinge, and then engrave the sight of Shelby's reaction into her brain for five seconds. It didn't take long until her own juices were bypassing her panties and smearing into Shelby's skin.

Shelby tensed when Santana's hand went to the other clamp and she saw the girl still too and watch her with worried eyes, the caresses on her side coming back right away. She was grateful for having the time to prepare, and she righted her shoulders and gave Santana a reassured glance, confident this one would be easier. Santana even looked like she would remove the thing carefully at first, but then twisted it and pulled it away, stretching her nipple in excruciating manner until the clamp came off with a clack.

Shelby actually broke a sweat on her forehead and whimpered pitifully around the gag. She took advantage of being gagged to fully curse Santana in pretty dirty ways. She watched through her glazed eyes as the Latina grabbed a small bottle of what looked like lube and just waited, confused. It wasn't like they needed it; Shelby could feel something thick running down her crack and probably ruining Laura's Persian carpet. But once Santana rubbed some of substance on her hands and palmed her other breast, she understood.

It was warm and it felt nice; she moaned approvingly. Santana guided her other hand to her pussy and stroke her engorged clit with her balmy fingers and busied her pouty lips by giving her more bruised nipple a very tender treatment too. Shelby only had to sway her hips faintly against Santana's hand, and she came right away.

Santana groaned as Shelby writhed under her. She was just starting! But she realized Shelby needed a minute, so she slowed down, making her touches extra gentle, and not exactly ignored the show either. She had nearly climaxed just from observing and listening to Shelby. Once Shelby seemed more or less settled, Santana moved and pushed the woman's legs apart. She lapped at Shelby's juice and played with Shelby's tiny bulb in the same manner she had with her nipples, and then focused on giving the woman an even better oral experience than she already had. Santana liked to exceed expectations.

Except, Shelby's taste, the little tremors of her thighs and then these new stifled noises she was creating made Santana unexpectedly lose control and orgasm. It was surreal. She had never come from eating out someone, not without playing with herself simultaneously, and she had to take her own break to recuperate. She raised her head to take a breath and found Shelby eyeing her inquisitively, until it obviously struck her and Shelby smirked at her around the cloth. That was all it took to make Santana hot and bothered once more, and she got back to work.

Shelby couldn't help but to be cheery that she had just extricated a massive orgasm from Santana Lopez on sensory stimulation only. She was so amused, it took a second for her to pay attention to what Santana's tongue was doing to her cunt. But once she did, it was all she could think about, although 'thinking' was probably a generous description to the situation. Santana kept mixing some rough moves with too mild ones, and the buildup was making her lightheaded with desire.

She was on the verge of being dizzy with need when Santana used her fingers to pound hard into her, making her come again, and then once more after the Latina kept pushing further and further into her, despite the fact that she was a shuddering mess, until Santana hit her G spot.

Honestly, Shelby knew her body had the capacity for this to happen, but she couldn't remember the last time she had been practically assured of it. She was so far off in la-la land that she didn't detect Santana fussing over her, removing the scarf and then hugging her. Her muscles were so jiggly, she wasn't sure she hadn't been trying to run a marathon. The air she was getting only became sufficient a few minutes later, and then Santana's massage on her scalp made her nod off.

"Welcome back, sleeping beauty," Santana greeted dramatically, when Shelby finally opened her eyes.

Santana had eventually moved the woman's head into her lap and was still stroking her hair and the side of her face. "Are you okay?"

Shelby nodded in response to her question, but she still looked a bit drowsy.

"Did you kill me?" Shelby asked Santana teasingly, while trying to pull some of her muscles; her entire body was sore.

"No, but you sure made me believe I had put you in a sex induced coma for a minute. Thanks a lot, Drama Queen."

Santana didn't like to admit fear, but hell, she had shaken Shelby, moved her around and even attempted some light stimulus, and the woman hadn't even stirred. Her nap had lasted almost an hour.

Shelby took another moment to clear the fog in her brain and then took in the scenario around her; Santana was still in her underwear half focusing on a black and white movie playing on the TV, and she was still undressed, but San had covered her with a wool blanket. She was aware she had been out cold before she could reciprocate on the orgasm front, but she was all rested and eager now.

Shelby kicked the cover off her and spun slightly to kiss Santana's legs. Santana was never opposed to sex, and Shelby and she were kind of 3x2 on the orgasm department, since she had eventually gotten herself off with very delicious memories of their game earlier, but she still didn't want the older woman to feel she had to do that. So she boosted Shelby up and looked her in the eyes seriously.

"You don't need to do that, my queen."

Shelby grinned; she didn't know where that 'my queen' thing had come from, but she loved it. She didn't know how they could be such bad-ass women and come up with these ridiculously sweet pet names for each other, but it was wonderful.

"Well, I want to go down on you too," she explained, but Santana just gave her this suspicious glare. Now it was her time to smack Santana, right on her thigh.

"I've done it before!"

Santana was unfazed, both by the swat and by Shelby being affronted.

"Recently?"

"Okay, another word and I'll gag YOU."

Santana only chortled as Shelby pulled her down and made her lie down in one of the cushions. She couldn't believe she was already receiving oral from Shelby on the second date, and she hadn't even needed to coax it out. As Shelby got rid of her panties and her head disappeared between Santana's legs, the only thought that crossed the Latina's mind was 'I love my life.'

* * *

**A/N: Again, I'm not a song writer. The song which Santana and Shelby write is **_**Heavy**_**, from Holly Brook (or, her current artistic name, Skylar Grey). I don't own the song and I do not intend to profit from its use in this story. **


End file.
